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THE  FOOL 

OF  THE 


NINETEENTH  CENTURY; 


AND  OTHER  TALES, 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF 

J,  HEINRICH  D,  ZSCHOKKE. 


NEW-YORK: 
D    APPLETON  &  CO.,  200  BROADWAY 

PHILADELPHIA : 
G.  S.  APPLETON,  148  CHESNUT-STREET. 

1845. 


*7% 


PREFATORY  NOTICE. 


The  ensuing-  delineations  of  European  manners  and  senti- 
ments are  selected  from  the  works  of  John  Heinrich  Daniel 
Zschokke,  a  living-  author  renowned  in  Germany  and  Switzer- 
land, whose  writings  are  almost  unknown  in  this  country.  The 
chief  part  of  a  collection  of  religious  and  moral  essays  which 
have  lately  been  translated  and  published  in  London  under  the 
title  of  "  Hours  of  Devotion"  are  attributed  to  him ;  and  such 
has  been  their  unbounded  popularity,  which  is  amply  merited, 
that  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  copies  have  been  dis- 
persed in  the  German  language  within  the  last  few  years. 

Zschokke  is  a  native  of  Magdeburg  in  Prussia,  and  is  now, 
at  seventy-three  years  of  age,  a  citizen  of  Switzerland — hav- 
ing passed  through  a  very  eventful  period,  and  a  changeful 
life;  which  has  enabled  him  to  depict  the  social  characteris- 
tics, principles,  and  actions  of  those  around  him,  with  a  no- 
velty and  interest  equally  racy  and  instructive.  His  parents 
died  when  he  was  young,  and  he  was  thus  bereft  of  their 
guidance  and  restrictions.  He  was  educated  in  the  Gymnasi- 
um of  Magdeburg,  which  he  was  enticed  to  abandon  suddenly, 
by  a  company  of  theatrical  strollers,  for  whom  he  prepared  pieces 
for  their  exhibition.  But  he  separated  from  those  associates  in 
disgust;  and  entered  the  University  of  Frankfort,  where  he 
studied  the  belles-lettres,  with  history,  philosophy  and  theolo- 
gy ;  and  at  twenty  years  of  age  entered  upon  active  life,  as 


IV. 


PREFATORY  NOTICE. 


an  instructor  of  youth.  Notwithstanding  his  admitted  qualifi- 
cations, and  his  solicitude,  he  could  not  obtain  a  permanent 
public  appointment  as  a  teacher  ;  and  his  application  also  for  a 
professorship  in  the  University  of  Frankfort,  in  1795,  was  un- 
successful, as  it  was  supposed,  through  the  interference  of  the 
Prussian  government,  whom  he  had  offended.  Wollner,  the 
Minister  of  State,  entirely  controlled  Frederic  William  II.,  then 
monarch  of  Prussia,  by  facilitating  his  profligate  life,  encour- 
aging his  superstitious  infatuation,  and  intimidating  him  with 
pretended  supernatural  appearances.  Through  Wollner's  in- 
stigations, the  half-idiot  king  issued  his  infamous  "  Religious 
Edict,"  which  enjoined  a  persecuting  intolerance  and  a  dog- 
matic mysticism,  altogether  incompatible  both  with  the  spirit 
of  the  age,  and  the  fundamental  establishment  of  the  Prussian 
monarchy.  Zschokke  wrote  and  published  a  powerful  philippic 
against  that  pernicious  measure ;  and  the  narrow-minded  im- 
placable Rosicrusian  minister  obstructed  the  advancement  of 
his  eloquent  literary  adversary.  In  consequence  of  that  disap- 
pointment, Zschokke  determined  to  make  a  journey  into  Italy ; 
but  on  his  way,  being  invited  to  superintend  the  seminary  at 
Reichenau,  he  began  his  residence  in  Switzerland ;  and  through 
the  whole  of  the  agitations  of  the  Swiss  Cantons,  connected 
with  the  changes  of  the  French  Revolution,  Zschokke  was  a 
prominent,  indefatigable  citizen,  and  was  called  by  the  people 
to  perform  official  duties  of  the  most  important  character  during 
that  stormy  period. 

Amid  his  numerous  engagements,  he  published  within  about 
twenty  years,  several  valuable  works,  among  which  his  Histo- 
ries of  the  Grisons,  of  Bavaria,  and  of  Switzerland,  and  his  Pic- 
tures of  Switzerland,  are  very  popular  and  highly  esteemed. 
A  collection  of  his  works  in  forty  volumes  appeared  some  years 


PREFATORY  NOTICE, 


V, 


ago,  including  his  Tales,  and  Biographical  and  Descriptive 
Sketches — and  from  those  delineations  of  Alpine  life,  the  nar- 
ratives comprised  in  this  volume  have  been  selected. 

The  four  histories  that  follow,  developing  Incidents  of  Socie- 
ty among  the  Swiss  Mountaineers  and  their  neighbours,  must 
not  be  regarded  as  mere  fictions.  They  are  doubtless  graphical 
displays  of  real  events,  changeless  scenery,  and  living  actors, 
as  they  have  passed  under  the  observation  of  the  perspicacious 
author ;  and  that  they  were  designed  in  their  present  form  to 
convey  salutary  instruction  to  those  who  delve  beneath  the 
mere  surface,  is  obvious  from  the  character  of  the  writer, 
and  his  ascertained  principles,  as  developed  in  the  "  Hours  of 
Devotion." 

"  The  Fugitive  of  the  Jura,"  reminds  the  reader  of  the 
beautiful  poem  by  our  beloved  poet  James  Montgomery,  entitled 
"  The  Wanderer  of  Switzerland"  for  the  lyrist  and  the  pro- 
fessor seem  to  have  drawn  their  materials  from  the  same  source. 
Montgomery  chanted  the  desolations  of  war  in  his  own  pacific 
spirit,  as  intertwined  with  the  Helvetic  narrative, — and  Zschokke 
has  depicted  the  miseries  inseparable  from  the  belligerant  pro- 
fession, in  vivid  portraitures,  which  render  duelling  and  military 
ravages  as  loathsome,  as  they  are  agonizing  and  criminal.  The 
history  of  Florian  doubtless  is  a  transcript  from  the  life,  as  it 
passed  before  the  eyes  of  the  Tutor  of  Reichenau ;  and  the 
"  Sybil "  is  the  true  image  of  the  European  wandering  fortune- 
telling  gipsy. 

"  Marble  and  Conrad,"  is  a  very  exemplary  portraiture  for 
youth,  by  which  to  enforce  the  domestic  and  social  virtues. 
It  is  the  embodiment,  peradventure,  in  another  form,  of  the 
author's  early  wanderings ;  and  a  picture  of  the  results  which 
have  followed  the  adoption  of  his  own  system  of  political  econo- 


vi. 


PREFATORY  NOTICE. 


my  around  the  visible  Alteck,  where  he  has  controlled  the  minds 
and  habits  of  his  compatriots.  "  Mend  the  Hole  in  your 
Sleeve  ! "  is  one  of  the  most  useful  and  attractive  moral  de- 
scriptions for  the  study  of  our  juniors,  which  can  be  found 
among  our  lighter  modern  literature. 

"A  Fool  of  the  Nineteenth  Century,"  is  an  admirable 
satire  upon  the  antiquated  feudalism,  and  the  aristocratic  hollow- 
ness,  and  lordliness,  and  injustice  of  the  old  European  nations. 
With  the  expanded  observation,  and  the  diversified  experience 
which  Zschokke  had  gained  from  Magdeburg  to  Italy,  and  amid 
his  multiplied  public  avocations  during  the  French  Revolution ; 
he  doubtless  saw  many  such  instances  of  oligarchical  absurdity ; 
and  possibly  may  have  encountered  one  such  "Fool!"  as  he 
delineates — unless  he  himself  is  the  living  memento  of  that 
transcendent  wisdom,  of  which  his  "  Fool  of  the  Nineteenth 
Century  "  is  the  speaking  oracle.  It  is  a  charming  picture  for 
us  Republicans  to  contemplate ;  and  the  combined  sagacity  and 
truthfulness  with  which  the  "  Fool"  practically  interprets  our 
own  "  Declaration  of  Independence,"  almost  urges  the  desire  to 
visit  Zschokke,  that  he  might  introduce  us  to  the  Baron  and 
Barony  of  Flyeln! 

"  Hortensia  "  is  a  development  of  another  class  of  persons. 
The  author  probably  meant  by  it  to  disclose  his  own  spiritually 
refined  views  of  man  in  his  loftier  relations,  and  thereby  to 
counteract  the  modern  neological  speculations  of  some  of 
his  purblind  contemporaries. — Or  he  might  have  designed, 
under  the  covering  which  he  has  assumed,  to  expose  the 
pretended  secrets,  and  the  real  artifices  of  the  Rosicrusians, 
by  whom,  through  his  persecutor,  the  Prussian  statesman 
Wollner,  he  had  been  obstructed  in  the  obtaining  of  his  desired 
professorship. — Or  he  may  have  intended,  by  his  description  of 


PREFATORY  NOTICE. 


vii. 


Hortensia's  artful  reveries,  to  demonstrate  the  jugglery  of 
"  Animal  Magnetism,"  with  its  correlate  impostures.  Wheth- 
er one  or  all  of  these  objects  were  in  his  view,  is  unimportant, 
as  he  has  successfully  accomplished  his  beneficial  purpose. 

American  citizens,  however,  who  are  not  personally  conver- 
sant with  European  prejudices,  superstitions,  customs,  and  the 
humiliating  gradations  of  society,  may  be  disposed  to  consider 
the  following  narratives,  merely  as  fictitious.  That  the  appella- 
tives are  so  is  self-evident, — but  the  scenery  is  the  landscape  in 
the  actual  reality — and  the  characters,  with  the  exception  per- 
haps of  Hortensia,  are  veritable  portraits  ;  while  all  the  rest  is 
"  life  as  it  is,"  and  as  constantly  exemplified  around  the  Eu- 
ropean Alps.  These  sketches  therefore  are  not  to  be  deemed 
merely  amusing  bagatelles,  ephemeral  "  trifles  light  as  air, " 
but  may  be  classed  among  the  weightier  specimens  of  that 
complex  real  and  decorative  biography,  which  is  "  history 
teaching  by  example." 


New-York-,  September  6,  1844. 


FLORIAN: 


THE  FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 

CHAPTER  L 
The  Flight. 

In  the  year  1798,  when  France  had  deluged  the  mountains 
of  Helvetia  with  her  armies  for  the  purpose  of  quelling  the 
civil  disturbances  of  Switzerland,  and  had  destroyed  the  old 
covenant  of  the  Eidsgenossen,  several  of  the  most  worthy 
men  of  that  country  were  dragged  by  the  conquerors  into  the 
interior  of  France,  either  as  hostages  for  the  payment  of  the 
sums  imposed  on  the  so-called  oligarchical  cities,  or  to  re- 
move men  whose  influence  and  popularity  in  the  cantons 
were  known,  and  whose  decided  hatred  against  the  new 
order  of  things  was  greatly  feared. 

One  of  those  persons  was  a  junior  Swiss,  who,  in  the 
last  week  of  May,  1799,  was  conveyed  under  a  strict 
guard,  by  Lausanne  and  Yverdun,  toward  Besangon.  But 
he  was  too  young  to  have  filled  any  office  of  importance  in 
his  country,  as  he  could  scarcely  have  seen  five-and- 
twenty  summers.  He  travelled  in  an  ill-conditioned  cart, 
seated  between  two  French  soldiers,  whose  loaded  mus- 
kets were  leaning  against  a  bundle  of  straw,  that  served 
as  a  seat  for  a  peasant  who  seemed  to  be  the  owner  of  the 
conveyance. 

The  prisoner's  appearance  excited  the  sympathy  of  all 
who  passed  bv  him.    His  finely-proportioned  figure,  the  in- 
2 


10 


florian  ; 


telligent  expression  of  his  countenance,  the  prond,  piercing 
glance  of  his  large  blue  eyes,  and  his  dignified  bearing, 
marked  him  as  a  man  not  of  the  common  stamp.  The 
paleness  of  his  face  excited  still  greater  compassion,  for 
his  grey  coat  buttoned  up  in  front,  and  its  green  velvet 
facings  were  disfigured  by  dark  red  spots  ;  and  judging  by 
the  low  tone  of  voice  in  which  he  spoke,  and  by  his  mo- 
tions, they  gave  evidence  of  great  pain  and  feebleness  from 
the  loss  of  blood,  which  most  probably  had  been  spilled  in 
the  defence  of  his  country. 

His  military  companions,  a  corporal  and  a  private, 
treated  him  with  great  civility  and  forbearance,  and  en- 
deavoured to  make  his  lot  as  easy  as  possible.  His  liber- 
ality might  have  availed  to  bring  about  that  result,  for  he 
supplied  them  with  good  wine  at  every  place  where  they 
stopped. 

They  passed  the  night  at  Balaiguer,  a  village  near  the 
frontier  of  France.  When  the  guards  conducted  their  pris- 
oner early  in  the  morning  to  the  cart,  he  was  apparently 
so  overcome  by  weakness  that  he  sank  fainting  to  the 
ground.  "  Let  me  die  here,"  he  said,  with  a  broken 
voice,  "  let  me  at  least  die  on  JSwiss  ground  !  You  will 
never  take  me  to  Besanc,on  alive." 

The  soldiers,  greatly  perplexed,  carried  him  back  into 
the  inn,  fearing  he  would  die  in  their  arms.  All  the  peo- 
ple in  the  house  hastened  to  the  unfortunate  prisoner's  re- 
lief. Some  would  have  gone  for  a  physician  who  lived  at 
a  distance,  but  the  soldiers  prohibited  them,  saying,  that 
he  would  soon  feel  better. 

"  Truly,"  said  the  corporal,  "  I  am  very  sorry  indeed, 
but  dead  or  alive,  we  must  carry  him  to-day  as  far  as  Pon- 
tarlier.  He  is  placed  in  my  charge,  and  I  have  my  orders  ; 
therefore,  onward.  Take  him  up  and  carry  him  to  the 
cart." 


THE  FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


11 


The  prisoner  opened  his  eyes,  cast  at  the  corporal  a 
dark,  significant  side -glance,  and  asked  for  Kirschwasser 
and  bread.  He  ate  a  few  mouthfuls  of  the  bread,  put  the 
remainder  in  his  pocket,  and  then  drank  three  or  four 
glasses  of  the  strongest  Kirschwasser,  without  moving  a 
muscle  of  his  face. 

"  Whew-ew !  exclaimed  the  corporal,  who  had  also 
tasted  of  the  liquor,  "  I  cannot  imitate  him  in  that,  although 
I  am  as  healthy  as  a  mountain  deer.  He  drinks  like  a 
Russian!"  All  the  servants  and  guests  of  the  inn  who 
surrounded  the  prisoner,  were  not  less  amazed  at  that  pro- 
ceeding in  one  whom  they  believed  at  the  point  of  death. 
The  young  man  then  arose,  paid  the  landlord,  and  request- 
ed to  be  led  to  the  cart.  He  was  lifted  into  it,  and  placed 
on  his  seat.  The  soldiers  posted  themselves,  one  on  each 
side  of  him,  and  went  on  their  way  across  the  frontier  into 
the  French  dominions.  Having  travelled  a  few  hours  they 
reached  Chaux-de-Sous,  where  the  rocks  and  mountains 
drawn  closely  together  form  the  narrow  pass  of  La  Cluse. 
There  the  prisoner  groaned  most  bitterly,  and  seemed  to 
have  lost  the  power  of  supporting  himself  upright.  He 
threw  an  arm  round  the  neck  of  each  of  his  guides,  that  he 
might  not  sink  fainting  into  the  cart. 

But  the  alarmed  soldiers  presently  felt  themselves  in  the 
grasp  of  a  giant.  The  prisoner  turned  their  heads  with 
almost  supernatural  power,  and  smashed  them  repeatedly 
with  such  terrific  force  together,  that  the  blood  gushed  in 
streams  from  their  noses,  and  they  both  fell  stunned  to  the 
bottom  of  the  cart.  When  the  peasant  saw  the  soldiers  in 
their  blood,  and  the  prisoner  in  the  act  of  seizing  their 
muskets,  he  sprang  terror-stricken  from  his  seat,  and  fled. 
He  soon  heard  behind  him  a  crash,  and  on  looking  round, 
he  saw  the  prisoner  strike  off  the  butt-ends  of  the  muskets, 
and  fling  them  away.    He  then  ran  a  considerable  distance 


FLORIAN  ! 


into  the  mountains.  The  fugitive  bounded  from  crag  to 
crag,  with  the  agility  and  fearlessness  of  a  chamois.  The 
steepest  rocks,  where  never  mortal  man  before  had  placed 
a  foot,  he  climbed  as  if  he  had  wings.  He  then  vanished 
between  the  bushes  and  crags. 

Neither  the  bewildered  driver,  who  devoutly  believed  that 
the  half-dead  captive  was  possessed  by  the  devil,  nor  either 
of  the  soldiers,  who  did  not  recover  their  recollection  for  a 
considerable  length  of  time,  felt  the  least  disposition  to  pur- 
sue the  escaped  prisoner. 

The  young  man,  who  had  previously  meditated  upon  his 
flight,  in  order  to  lull  the  vigilance  and  suspicion  of  his 
guards,  had  played  admirably  the  part  of  a  feeble  man  on 
the  brink  of  death  ;  but  he  now  proceeded  with  light  and 
rapid  strides  up  and  down  the  mountains,  always  towards 
the  more  cold  and  higher  regions  of  the  Jura.  He  never 
deviated  from  the  straight  line  he  had  taken,  unless  his 
path  brought  him  too  near  to  a  mountain  hut,  or  to  a  human 
form  in  the  distance.  Beaten  paths  were  not  his  course. 
He  stopped  not  to  breathe  until  after  the  lapse  of  two 
hours,  when  he  arrived  at  the  summit  of  one  of  the  highest 
mountains  that  offered  a  clear  and  unobstructed  prospect 
over  the  whole  surrounding  country. 

Here  he  stood  still,  far  above  the  vales  and  the  habita- 
tions of  men,  in  the  noiseless  wilderness,  traversed  but  by 
the  solitary  eagle.  With  delight  he  inhaled  the  luxurious 
draught  of  pure  air,  the  refreshing  stream  of  which  cooled 
the  fever  on  his  brow,  and  flowed  gratefully  through  his 
light  golden  ringlets.  Below  his  feet,  in  the  vast  abyss, 
waved  the  tops  of  the  lofty  pines.  Towards  the  East,  stretch- 
ed in  a  straight  line,  occasionally  broken  in  upon  by  crags, 
the  long,  woody  mountain  ridges,  that  enclose  the  uniform 
green  carpet  of  the  vales.  It  seemed  to  be  an  immense 
picture  of  green  waves,  the  tops  of  which  were  black- 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


13 


ened  by  the  dark  horizon.  Towards  the  West,  the  moun- 
tain gradually  descended  into  the  dusky  plains  of  France, 
with  here  and  there  a  patch  of  wood,  like  the  shadows 
cast  by  clouds.  Southward,  far  beyond  the  lakes,  and  the 
wide  extent  of  visible  country,  glittered  the  snow-crowned 
Alps,  lifting  their  frozen  heads  high  above  the  clouds. 
Thither  the  fugitive  cast  an  anxious,  musing,  and  melan- 
choly gaze.  Then  his  eye  rambled  once  more  through  the 
lower  lands  by  which  he  was  immediately  surrounded, 
that  he  might  determine  upon  the  course  next  to  be  pur- 
sued. 

After  having  refreshed  himself,  he  proceeded  along  the 
sharp  ridge  of  the  mountain,  towards  a  crag  which  prom- 
ised a  more  distant  view,  as  it  was  considerably  higher 
than  the  spot  where  he  then  stood. 


CHAPTER,  II. 
The  Sybil. 

After  having  plodded  his  way  across  the  loose  pieces  of 
the  black  ruins  of  the  rock,  which,  as  his  foot  touched 
them,  rolled  with  a  tremendous  crash  into  the  abyss  below, 
he  arrived  at  the  top  of  the  crag  ;  and  was  greatly  surprised 
to  find  a  very  aged  woman  sitting  on  a  stone,  with  her 
eyes  immoveably  fixed  on  the  blue  distance.  Her  bodice 
and  petticoat  made  of  half  woollen  brown  stuff,  which  from 
long  wear  showed  the  white  linen  threads,  bespoke  pover- 
ty ;  but  the  whiteness  of  her  cap,  and  the  little  blue  ker- 
chief, together  with  her  red  striped  apron,  manifested,  not- 
withstanding her  poverty,  that  she  was  very  tidy.  Her 
withered  right  hand  was  leaning  upon  a  crutch  made  of 
black  thorn,  while  her  left  arm,  with  the  elbow  placed 


11 


FLORIAN  : 


upon  her  knee,  supported  her  chin.  Her  wrinkled,  sun- 
burnt face  might  have  been  pleasing,  through  an  expression 
of  kind-heartedness,  had  not  her  chin  and  lips  been  shaded 
by  a  soft,  yellowish  beard. 

The  fugitive  looked  at  her  for  some  time  in  silence,  and 
then  saluted  her  with  a  loud  voice.  The  old  woman,  thus 
aroused  from  her  revery,  raised  her  head,  returned  his  sal- 
utation, and  scanned  his  fine  figure,  without  showing  the 
least  symptom  of  surprise.  He  seated  himself  opposite  to 
her,  took  out  his  piece  of  bread,  and  made  his  frugal  meal, 
uttering  a  few  words  about  the  weather  and  the  scene,  in 
order  to  draw  her  into  conversation.  The  old  woman, 
without  replying  to  him,  continued  to  stare  him  full  in  the 
face  ;  and  when  at  length  he  succeeded  in  drawing  from  her 
an  answer,  it  was  given  as  from  a  person  whose  mind  is  oc- 
cupied with  other  objects,  and  who  dreams  with  open  eyes. 
He  however  learned  from  her,  and  it  tranquillized  his 
mind,  that  he  was  no  longer  on  French  ground,  but  in  the 
principality  of  Neufchatel,  upon  one  of  the  heights  of  the 
Gros  Taureau,  not  far  from  the  village  of  Les  Verrieres. 

"  Whence  are  you  ?  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  ask  the 
question,"  said  the  old  woman,  after  another  long  silence, 
still  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  his  face,  as  if  she  were 
dreaming. 

He  pointed  with  his  finger  to  the  East,  and  said — "  My 
dwelling  is  yonder,  where  the  last  Alp  is  scarcely  visible." 

"  In  the  Grisons  ?"  asked  the  old  woman  abruptly. 
The  fugitive  averted  his  face,  unable  to  conceal,  at  this 
question,  a  feeling  of  astonishment.  "  Thereabouts,"  he 
replied. 

"  Do  not  fear  me,"  said  the  old  woman,  "  you  are  per- 
fectly safe  with  us.  Do  you  not  come  from  France,  from 
Pontarlier  1  you  were  a  prisoner,  and  have  escaped.  Is  it 
not  so  ?  " 


TIIE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


10 


The  young  man  did  not  hesitate  to  confess  that  fact. 

"  That  is  human  blood,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  spots 
on  his  gray  coat  and  pantaloons,  "  and  it  is  quite  fresh." 

At  those  words,  the  fugitive  remarked,  for  the  first  time, 
the  fresh  stains  of  blood  on  his  clothes.  He  related  faith- 
fully the  manner  in  which  he  had  escaped  from  the  two 
soldiers,  not  far  from  Pontarlier,  and  inquired  whether  in 
the  Neufchatel  territory,  he  would  be  safe  from  the  pursuit 
and  violence  of  the  French. 

"  Most  certainly,"  rejoined  the  old  woman,  "  for  Prussia 
is  at  peace  with  France,  and  the  King  of  Prussia  is  the 
sovereign  of  the  land.  You  need  not  fear  any  violence, 
but  you  will  do  well  to  live  in  some  sequestered  part  of 
the  country,  in  order  to  put  yourself  out  of  the  reach  of  dis- 
covery and  deceit.  That  I  might  tell  you  so,  was  my  pur- 
pose in  coming  hither." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  fugitive,  "  you  surely  could  not 
know,  mother,  that  you  should  find  me  here." 

"You  may  doubt  me,  young  man,  but  nevertheless,  I 
was  sent  hither  on  your  account." 

"That's  impossible!"  exclaimed  the  fugitive;  "not  a 
human  being  knows  me  in  this  country,  for  I  never  set  foot 
in  it  until  now  !  " 

"  But  you  will  soon  love  this  land  as  well,  and  be  able 
to  forget  it  as  little,  as  your  own  in  the  higher  Alps. 
There  you  dwelt  in  a  wide  and  large  valley.  I  see  your 
beautiful  home  almost  in  the  midst  of  it,  shaded  by  high 
trees,  by  the  side  of  a  wild,  murmuring  rivulet,  that  rushes 
from  the  near  mountain.  At  the  side  of  it,  the  gray,  rug- 
ged walls  of  rock  lift  their  heads  above  the  clouds,  while 
in  the  back  ground  of  the  landsdape,  the  vale  seems  barri- 
caded by  mountains  of  ice  and  snow.  It  is  quite  different 
here.  Our  mountains  are  but  hills,  when  compared  witk 
yours." 


16 


FLORIAN  : 


The  fugitive  stared  at  the  old  woman  with  distended 
eyes,  and  asked  with  astonishment — "  So,  you  have  seen 
my  home  ;  will  you  tell  me  what  it  is  called  ?  " 

The  old  woman  replied,  "  I  know  not  its  name,  but  I 
think  I  see  it  very  distinctly.  You,  young  sir,  I  also  see 
in  the  high  mountains,  accompanied  by  a  friend,  with  your 
rifle  in  your  hand.  You  are  a  gallant,  honourable  man. 
Hold  firm  to  your  stern  honesty.  You  meant  well,  but 
you  would  have  had  less  sorrow,  had  you  been  less  fiery; 
and  often  you  should  have  less  presumed  on  your  bodily 
strength.  It  is  well  for  you  that  you  are  not  married ; 
though  several  times  they  tried  to  force  you  into  the  mar- 
riage state.  This  gave  rise  to  a  great  deal  of  disquietude 
in  your  house.  Now  you  are  as  free  as  the  bird  in  the  air. 
You  have  frequently  been  asked,  whether  your  heart  was 
not  fettered  by  the  affection  you  bore  another,  when  you 
refused  to  unite  yourself  to  the  woman  who  was  proposed 
to  you.  You  spoke  always  the  truth  when  you  answered 
their  inquiries  in  the  negative.  But  now,  nobody  asks 
you ;  yet  a  longing  has  taken  possession  of  your  soul. 
Cupid's  arrow  has  pierced  your  heart,  and  you  know  not 
where  to  buy  a  balm  for  your  secret  wound.  Go  into  the 
temple,  and  ask  the  God  of  Sleep  to  bless  you  with  a  dream 
of  revelation." 

The  old  woman  paused,  but  still  looked  at  the  young 
man  with  a  fixed  gaze.  As  she  spoke,  her  eyes  seemed 
ready  to  start  from  their  sockets,  and  the  features  of  her 
countenance  bore  a  solemn,  lurid  expression.  The  fugi- 
tive sat  opposite  to  her,  as  if  petrified,  and  seemed  still,  as 
if  listening,  long  after  she  had  ceased  to  speak. 

"  But,  mother,"  said  he,  "  if  you  do  not  know  me,  who 
then  has  told  you  all  these  things  ?  " 

"  Who  could  tell  me,  young  man,"  she  rejoined,  "  what 
you  have  told  to  none  1    But  you  should  not  have  interrupt- 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


17 


ed  me,"  she  added,  evidently  displeased,  rubbing  her  eyes, 
and  appearing  as  if  she  had  just  been  awakened  from  sleep. 
She  looked  first  on  one  side,  then  on  the  other,  and  then 
again  at  him,  and  said,  "  Now  every  thing  passes  away 
like  a  mist,  and  yet  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  have  told  you  a 
great  deal  more,  which  would  have  been  of  benefit  to  you 
hereafter  ;  but  it  is  all  gone  from  me." 

"Whence  did  you  draw  your  knowledge  of  what  you 
have  told  me  already  ? "  asked  the  stranger. 

The  old  woman  lifted  both  her  hands  in  the  air,  spread 
out  her  fingers,  waved  them  about  at  random,  looked  into 
the  distance,  and  shook  her  head,  as  if  she  would  say  by 
that  strange  motion,  "  I  have  my  knowledge  from  I  know 
not  where,  and  if  I  knew,  I  should  scarcely  be  permitted 
to  tell  you  of  it." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  any  thing  more,  mother  ? "  asked  the 
fugitive. 

"  It  is  all  over.  It  still  moves  darkly  after  the  first,  as  if 
strange  events  were  impending  over  you.  Fortune  favours 
you,  and  that  is  the  reason  why  you  are  haunted  by  misery. 
More  I  know  not." 

Like  a  prophesying  Sybil,  the  old  woman  sat  before  him, 
on  the  top  of  a  rock.  He  began  to  feel  a  secret  fear  creep- 
ing over  him.  He  almost  could  have  believed  her  to  be 
one  of  those  mysterious  beings  of  whom  superstition 
speaks  ;  that  they  live  in  the  bowels  of  the  mountains,  and 
sometimes  appear  to  the  shepherd,  or  to  the  wayfarer  who 
has  lost  his  path,  sometimes  in  the  shape  of  pigmies,  and 
anon  of  dancing  elves,  and  other  adventurous  creatures. 
Then  again,  he  thought  her  to  be  a  lunatic  who  roamed 
among  the  mountains.  But  when  he  reverted  to  what  she 
had  said  of  his  domestic  circumstances,  of  his  individual  self, 
of  the  things  which  had  occurred  to  him  in  his  past  history, 
things  which  he  had  kept  concealed  in  his  own  heart,  and 
2* 


16 


FLORIAN  : 


other  matters  which  were  known  to  his  family  only,  he 
was  almost  tempted  to  believe  in  witchcraft. 

"Mother,"  he  said,  "you  have  no  doubt  been  a  great 
traveller  in  your  life-time." 

She  laid  her  finger  significantly  upon  her  forehead,  and 
replied  with  a  gentle  smile,  "  Indeed,  I  have  travelled  very 
far,  but  it  was  only  in  the  spirit ;  not  with  my  feet  on  the 
high  road.  I  have  been  four  times  in  Neufchatel  :  the  last 
time  was  when  the  royal  governor  was  sworn  in  ;  it  was  a 
grand  spectacle.  I  have  been  often  at  Locle,  but  never 
any  farther." 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?"  inquired  the  fugitive. 

She  lifted  her  crutch,  described  a  circle  in  the  air,  and 
said,  "  In  all  these  mountains.  Everywhere  !  At  every 
hut  I  find  a  welcome,  and  a  place.  I  am  well  known,  and 
need  but  little  for  myself." 

"  But  what  brought  you  to  the  top  of  this  mountain,  which 
is  difficult  of  access  even  to  persons  much  younger  than 
yourself.    It  could  not  be  for  pleasure,"  he  rejoined. 

"Young  man,"  answered  the  sybil,  "I  bend  my  steps 
whither  I  must ;  although  I  may  appear  to  go  whither  I 
list.  It  is  the  spirit  that  guides  the  steps  of  men.  To-day 
I  was  sent  hither  to  await  your  coming."  At  those  words 
she  arose  ;  and  drawing  herself  up  to  her  full  height,  which 
far  exceeded  that  of  ordinary  women,  she  left  the  stranger 
without  bidding  him  farewell.  She  had  not  gone  far,  when 
she  stopped  and  beckoned  to  the  fugitive  with  her  crutch. 
He  obeyed  the  summons.  She  then  pointed  to  a  place  in 
the  woods  at  their  feet  and  said,  "  There  you  will  find  a 
pure  stream  ;  its  spring  is  unknown,  and  its  course  is  un- 
seen. There  cleanse  the  blood  from  off  your  garments  ; 
for  human  blood  looks  ill  on  man's  attire  !" 

"  Shall  I  find  a  human  habitation  any  where  near  ?"  he 
asked. 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


19 


She  replied,  "  When  you  descend,  you  will  see  in  the 
valley  below  Les  Verrieres,  through  which  passes  the  great 
road  to  Pontarlier.  But  you  must  not  tarry  where  your 
pursuers  may  track  your  path  ;  therefore  go  from  Les  Ver 
rieres  up  the  mountain  to  Les  Jeannets,  or  to  La  C6te-aux» 
Fees." 

The  old  woman  then  proceeded  with  long  and  hasty 
strides  over  the  ridge  of  the  mountain.  The  fugitive  watch- 
ed her  until  her  tall  figure  disappeared  amidst  the  bushes. 

CHAPTER  III. 

The  Naturalist. 

""Nonsense  !"  muttered  the  young  man,  as  he  descend* 
ed  the  height  towards  the  woods  that  she  had  pointed  out 
to  him.  In  that  exalted  solitude,  a  feeling  which  he 
could  not  explain  to  himself,  had  taken  possession  of  his 
soul.  His  escape  from  captivity,  his  meeting  with  the  mys- 
terious sybil  at  the  crag  of  the  Gros  Taureau,  the  words 
she  had  spoken,  and  the  remembrances  she  had  called  up, 
were  so  entirely  foreign  to  common  experience,  and  alto- 
gether so  marvellous,  that  it  seemed  to  him,  as  if  with  the 
jump  he  had  taken  from  the  cart,  he  had  also  leaped  into 
another  world. 

In  the  valley  below  him,  and  on  the  side  of  the  moun- 
tain, he  observed  human  dwellings  scattered  about  in  every 
direction.  He  proceeded  on  his  path  along  the  ridge  to 
conceal  in  the  darkness  of  the  pine  wood  the  stains  on  his 
garments,  which  certainly  were  well  calculated  to  arouse 
suspicion,  should  any  one  chance  to  see  him.  He  there- 
fore sought  the  place  which  the  old  woman  had  so  accu- 
rately described  to  him,  and  after  a  long  search,  found  it 


20 


FLORI AJV  .' 


hidden  behind  some  bushes.  It  was  a  hollow  in  the  ground, 
in  which  the  rain  water  had  collected,  forming  a  pool  that 
evidently  served  for  watering  cattle. 

Here,  in  the  seclusion  of  the  wood,  he  undressed  him- 
self, and  first  purified  his  pantaloons  from  the  darkened 
stains  of  blood.  Although  not  an  adept  in  the  art  of  wash- 
ing, he  finished  his  task  in  an  uncommonly  short  time.  He 
also  made  the  discovery  that  the  under  clothes  he  wore 
would  be  none  the  worse  for  similar  treatment.  His  shirt, 
through  three  weeks'  wear,  had  changed  its  colour  from 
white  almost  to  black  ;  but  it  was  the  only  one  of  which  he 
was  then  owner.  From  his  leather  belt  that  he  wore  next 
his  body  he  drew  forth  a  few  pieces  of  gold,  that  he  might 
have  the  key  to  civility  and  hospitality  in  his  hand,  with 
which  a  beggar  or  a  vagrant — and  he  had  the  appearance 
either  of  one  or  the  other — seldom  meets.  Having  thus 
arranged  his  garments,  he  knelt  down  also  to  cleanse  the 
spots  of  blood  from  his  coat. 

While  in  the  midst  of  this  operation  he  was  surprised  by 
a  human  voice  exclaiming,  "  Halloo,  friend  !  I  can  give  you 
company,  and  shall  do  it  too."  The  fugitive  looked  up,  and 
behind  him  stood  a  little  man  in  a  black  dress,  who  depos- 
ited carefully  a  large  book,  a  hammer,  and  a  bundle  of 
flowers  under  a  fir-tree.  He  then  proceeded  to  take  off  a 
white  muslin  neckerchief,  which  was  white  no  longer  ;  next 
his  dusty  shoes,  then  a  pair  of  hose  which  were  not  the  bet- 
ter for  wear,  and  the  whiteness  of  which  had  met  with  a 
similar  fate  as  that  of  the  neckerchief. 

"  Always  a  salutary,  although  a  somewhat  mean  occupa- 
tion this,  whenever  a  person  has  nothing  better  to  do,"  said 
the  man  in  black,  as  he  also  knelt  beside  the  water ;  "  but 
why  do  you  wash  your  coat  7" 

"I  slipped  in  walking,  and  soiled  it  on  the  ground,"  re- 
plied the  young  man. 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


21 


"My  good  friend!"  exclaimed  the  man  in  black,  as  he 
looked  attentively  at  the  pool,  "  you  must  tell  me  where  the 
ground  became  treacherous  to  you.  Do  you  not  see  that 
you  are  giving  the  whole  water  the  colour  of  a  reddish 
brown  that  comes  evidently  of  iron  ore  ?  Have  you  been 
in  the  districts  of  Fenin  ?  or,  perhaps,  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  La  Brevine,  where  I  have  sought  so  long,  and  in 
vain,  for  the  stratum  of  iron  which  there  impregnates  with  its 
properties  the  sanative  springs  ?  The  country  may  have 
to  thank  your  disaster  for  a  most  important  discovery." 

"  I  am  a  stranger  in  these  parts,"  replied  the  fugitive, 
"and  am  unable  to  give  you  the  name  of  the  place." 

"  But  you  will  make  some  stay  in  this  country  ?"  inquired 
the  geologist. 

"I  think  so,"  answered  the  Grison.  "I  should  like  to 
become  more  acquainted  with  this  principality,  which  is  so 
closely  connected  with  Switzerland." 

"Excellent,  excellent!"  said  his  companion.  "You  can 
learn  a  great  deal  from  me.  I  am  the  Professor  Ojvyx.  Only 
ask  for  me,  and  I  will  conduct  you  wherever  you  may  feel 
inclined  to  go.  But  above  all,  we  must  first  find  the  stratum 
on  which  you  had  the  unmatched  fortune  to  fall.  Let  us 
but  bring  this  stratum  into  open  day,  sir,  and  the  fortune  of 
the  country  is  made.  I  will  have  founderies  and  forges 
erected  instantaneously.  We  have  wood  in  plenty ;  and 
if  need  be,  a  superabundance  of  turf  for  the  small  fires." 

The  fugitive  cast  sidelong,  scrutinizing  glances  at  his 
companion,  who  was  kneeling  at  his  side,  and  who,  with- 
out permitting  himself  to  be  interrupted,  continued  to  speak 
of  the  great  advantages  of  iron-works,  to  calculate  the  cap- 
ital which  his  project  necessarily  required,  and  to — wash 
his  stockings  !  When  at  length  he  paused,  the  Grison  said, 
"  Sir,  you  are  doubtless  appointed  professor  in  one  of  the 
institutions  in  this  part  of  the  country?" 


22 


FLORIAN  : 


"  By  no  means,  my  worthy  friend,"  exclaimed  the  profes- 
sor. "I  live  independently,  and  for  myself  alone.  I  have 
different  work  to  perform  from  that  of  teaching  wild  boys 
Latin  with  cane  in  hand.  You  have  no  conception  of  the 
barbaric  ignorance  of  the  people  here.  There  they  sit,  for- 
ever making  watch-wheels,  watch-springs,  and  watch- 
chains,  or  weaving  lace  ;  and  all  this  time  they  know  noth- 
ing of  the  treasures  of  their  soil,  have  no  idea  of  agricul- 
ture, and  are  even  a  century  behind  the  times  in  the  art  of 
breeding  cattle.  By  this  uniform,  constant,  and  mechani- 
cal labour  these  men  degenerate  at  last  into  senseless  ma- 
chines themselves,  and  become  as  blind  to  the  wonderful 
treasures  of  nature,  as  the  very  oxen  that  live  under  the 
same  roof.  In  no  state  should  manufactures  be  tolerated, 
until  the  population  becomes  so  numerous  that  the  soil  can- 
not yield  them  any  longer  the  means  of  subsistence.  I 
have  written  a  treatise  on  this  subject,  and  was  in  hopes  that 
the  council  would  take  up  another  notion.  But  the  people 
are  here  too  free  !  They  will  not  be  led,  and  adhere  to 
their  old  jog-trot  ways,  like  ticks  to  a  sheep.  A  better  ex- 
ample ought  to  be  given  them.  Mere  demonstration  is  of 
no  avail.  Let  us  institute  iron-founderies  forthwith  ;  that 
will  stimulate  them  to  the  things  that  concern  the  forest, 
bring  turf  into  greater  request,  will  dry  up  marshes  miles 
in  length,  and  make  them  fit  for  agricultural  purposes." 

The  professor  continued  to  develop  his  views  of  political 
economy  until  the  washing  was  not  only  concluded,  but  the 
clothes  were  half  dried  by  the  sunbeams  which  now  and  then 
penetrated  the  thick  bushes  of  fir,  and  fell  on  them  as  they 
hung  upon  the  stumps  of  some  old  trees.  The  fugitive  put 
on  his  coat,  and  as  the  professor  was  going  to  do  the  same 
with  his  stockings,  he  discovered  with  surprise  that  they 
were  still  very  wet,  although  they  had  been  exposed  to  the 
rays  of  the  sun  nearly  an  hour. 


THE   FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


23 


"  See  here,  sir,  see  here  !"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  this  is  very 
astonishing  ;  how  can  such  a  phenomenon  be  accounted  for  ? 
Animal  wool  absorbs  more  water  than  cotton,  and  yet  your 
woollen  coat  has  dried  sooner  than  my  stockings.  My 
neckerchief  also  is  still  quite  wet.  That  is  very  astonish- 
ing indeed." 

The  fugitive  smiled,5 and  said,  "  In  the  heat  of  your  dis- 
course you  most  probably  forgot  to  wring  out  the  water  im- 
mediately after  you  had  done  washing  them." 

Mr.  Onyx  contracted  his  brow,  shook  his  head,  and  re- 
plied, "  This  cannot  be  the  cause  of  the  slow  evaporation 
of  the  wet  in  my  washing.  Should  I  have  forgotten  to 
wring  them  out  when  I  drew  them  from  the  water  ?  Nev- 
er ;  a  thing  of  that  kind  does  not  so  easily  slip  my  memory. 
But  let  us  now  return  to  our  founderies,"  he  said,  as  he  roll- 
ed up  his  wet  stockings  and  neckcloth,  and  put  them  to- 
gether in  his  black  coat  pocket,  and  thrust  his  bare  feet  into 
his  shoes,  adding  at  the  same  time,  "  People  in  this  part  of 
the  country  do  not  put  any  restraint  upon  themselves." 

The  fugitive,  more  anxious  to  find  food  and  shelter  than 
to  hear  his  companion  discuss  the  natural  curiosties  of  the 
Principality  of  Neufchatel,  asked  the  professor,  "  Where  do 
you  reside  ?" 

"  This  summer,"  he  replied,  "  I  live  yonder,  on  the  heights 
of  Les  Bayards  ;  but  whither  are  you  going,  sir  V 

The  fugitive,  remembering  the  advice  which  the  old  sybil 
had  given  him  at  the  Gros  Taureau,  to  seek  a  sequestered 
spot  in  the  Jeannets  or  La  Cote-aux-Fees,  mentioned  those 
places  to  the  professor. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  the  professor,  "excellent,  excellent! 
I  shall  accompany  you  as  far  as  the  village  Les  Verrieres. 
Thence  I  take  the  path  to  the  left  up  to  Les  Bayards,  while 
you  will  ascend  the  mountain  to  the  right,  to  La  C6te-aux- 
Fees.    I  shall  see  you  soon.    I  know  every  body  there  ; 


24 


FLOllIAN  : 


they  are  all  good  people,  but  incredibly  ignorant,  and  with- 
out feeling,  and  insensible  to  the  necessity  of  improving 
their  condition.  I  cannot  even  except  the  old  hospitable 
Staffard,  who  loves  to  read  the  books  I  generally  carry  him 
in  winter  time.  But  to  whose  house  are  you  going,  and 
where  shall  1  be  most  likely  to  find  you  ?  " 

The  fugitive  did  not  consider  ltfng,  but  pronounced  the 
name  of  Staffard,  which  he  had  just  now  heard  for  the  first 
time,  and  with  the  very  commendable  title  of"  hospitable." 

"  Excellent !"  exclaimed  the  professor.  "  Staffard  is  my 
most  intimate  friend.  Remember  me  to  him.  I  should  be 
bound  to  love  him  were  he  a  heathen,  from  which  state,  in- 
deed, he  is  not  very  far  removed.    I  can,  however,  tell  you, 

Mr.    How  ?    Did  you  not  just  now  give  me  your 

name  ?  I  have  forgotten  it  already  !  It  is  really  amazing 
how  treacherous  my  memory  is  growing  of  late.  Excuse 
me,  sir,  but  I  must  request  you  to  favour  me  with  your  name 
once  more." 

"  You  may  call  me  Florian,"  replied  the  Grison. 

"Well  then,  Mr.  Florian,"  said  the  professor,  "you  will 
become  sick  and  tired  of  this  land  of  Hottentots  before  a 
month  is  over." 

Heavy  drops  of  rain  began  to  fall  through  the  branches 
of  the  firs  from  the  darkly. overcast  heavens,  and  distant 
thunder  announced  the  coming  of  a  storm.  Mr.  Onyx  look- 
ed anxiously  about  him,  gathered  up  hastily  his  books,  ham- 
mer, and  herbs,  exclaiming,  "  Let  us  get  out  of  the  wood, 
every  fir  attracts  lightning,  and  you  may  believe  me  when 
I  say  that  lightning  has  quite  a  predilection  for  my  person. 
It  is  astonishing  how  it  pursues  me.  Oh  that  I  were  but 
in  my  house  at  Les  Bayards  !  that  at  least  is  secured  by  a 
lightning  rod ;  but  you  cannot  find  another  house  of  safety 
in  the  whole  adjacent  country."  Saying  this,  Mr.  Onyx 
set  off  at  full  speed.    Both  the  companions  hurried  out  of 


THE   FUGITIVE   OE  THE  JUKA. 


25 


the  wood  in  an  oblique  direction  down  the  meadow  towards 
the  valley  below.  The  storm  was  close  above  their  heads  ; 
lightning  and  thunder  followed  each  other  in  quick  succes- 
sion. His  bundle  of  plants  becoming  troublesome  to  the 
professor,  he  discarded  it.  "  For  the  preservation  of  our 
lives  we  must  sacrifice  everything,"  he  ejaculated  ;  and  tak- 
ing one  mineral  after  another  out  of  his  coat-pocket,  the 
skirts  of  which  were  beating  about  his  legs,  he  threw  them 
away  in  order  to  facilitate  and  accelerate  his  rapid  course. 

They  soon  reached  the  village  Les  Verrieres,  along  the 
side  of  which  ran  the  high  road  to  Pontarlier.  The  moun- 
tains there  at  the  side  of  the  valleys  are  not  very  lofty,  be- 
cause the  valleys  themselves  are  elevated  several  thousand 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  The  rain  fell  with  great 
violence.  The  dark  clouds  moved  on  heavily  at  the  brow 
of  the  mountain.  Each  flash  of  lightning  seemed  to  con- 
vert the  whole  atmosphere  and  the  heavy  falling  rain  into 
one  sheet  of  flame.  Mr.  Onyx  fled  like  an  arrow  that  has 
left  the  bow,  bending  his  flight  across  the  broad  street,  to- 
wards a  house  with  green  shutters ;  then  up  a  flight  of 
stone  steps,  and  entered  a  door  on  his  left.  Florian  follow- 
ed his  agile  conductor  into  a  spacious  room,  where  he  im- 
mediately called  for  food,  with  which  to  refresh  himself ; 
for  he  had  tasted  but  little  nourishment  through  the  whole 
of  that  adventurous  day. 

It  required  little  persuasion,  on  the  part  of  Florian,  to 
induce  the  professor  to  partake  of  the  refreshments  ;  but 
before  sitting  down,  he  drew  the  table  into  the  middle  of 
the  room,  and  measured  very  accurately  the  distance  from 
the  window,  door,  and  stove.  After  having  finished  his 
occupation  he  said,  "  Well,  now  we  are  as  safe  as  we 
possibly  can  be,  in  a  house  that  has  no  lightning  rod." 
They  both  regaled  themselves  to  their  hearts'  content. 
"Friend  of  my  soul,"  said  Mr.  Onyx,  "this  white  nectar 


26  florian  : 

of  Neufchatel  is  the  only  good  thing  that  human  art  is 
capable  of  producing  in  this  land  of  ignorance  !  Even  I 
could  not  improve  it." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Staffard's  Dwelling. 

As  soon  as  the  storm  had  abated,  and  the  blue  heaven 
began  to  peep  from  between  the  opening  clouds,  the  tra- 
vellers prepared  to  set  forth  on  their  journey.  Florian  paid 
his  bill  to  the  host,  and  his  scientific  guest,  grateful  for  the 
refreshment  he  had  received,  conducted  his  "  most  excellent 
friend,"  as  he  denominated  him,  safely  on  the  road  to  La 
Cote-aux-Fees.  At  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  on  the  south  side 
of  the  valley,  they  separated  like  old  friends,  with  a  hearty 
farewell.  Onyx  returned  to  the  high  road,  and  proceeded 
towards  the  scattered  dwellings  of  Les  Bayards  ;  while 
Florian  ascended  the  rugged  mountain-path,  which  ran  in 
an  oblique  direction  through  the  pine -wood. 

When  he  had  reached  the  summit  of  the  ridge,  the 
sun  was  sinking  to  the  horizon,  behind  the  high  peaks 
in  the  west.  His  last  rays  glittered  on  the  undulating, 
dark  green  plains,  the  hills  of  which  cast  sharply  defined, 
black  shadows  through  the  golden  light  of  the  pasture 
grounds.  Gigantic  rocks  arose,  and  hills  were  joined  to 
hills,  while  gloomy  forests  of  fir  spread  out  their  dark 
hues  in  the  distance.  Houses  were  scattered  everywhere 
in  the  meadows,  and  all  of  similar  structure,  spacious 
and  broad.  The  lower  part  of  those  houses  was  built  of 
stone,  with  numerous  windows,  but  the  upper  part  joined 
together  by  logs  and  boards  ;  and  out  of  the  roof,  shingled 
with  wood,  a  broad  square  chimney  arose,  like  a  tower. 


THE   FUGITIVE   OP  THE  JURA. 


27 


Every  thing  he  saw  bore  marks  of  contentment,  and  of 
agreeable  prosperity  in  the  lap  of  the  kind,  although  poor 
mother,  Nature.  There  were  no  fruit  trees,  and  only  here 
and  there,  in  the  fields  of  grass,  could  be  seen  a  small 
patch  bearing  oats  or  barley ;  while  the  little  gardens 
before  the  houses  yielded  vegetables  instead  of  flowers. 

Florian  had  beheld  far  more  charming  landscapes,  yet 
this  silent,  refreshing  solitude,  on  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tains, cheered  his  mind  in  a  remarkable  manner.  In 
this  wide  and  general  peacefulness,  a  friendly  spirit  seemed 
to  welcome  him,  saying,  "  Here  shalt  thou  find  what  thou 
seekest,  secrecy  and  oblivion."  He  thanked  in  his  heart 
the  mysterious  apparition  at  the  Gros  Taureau,  for  having 
directed  him  to  this  spot ;  and  resolved  to  inquire  for  the 
hospitable  house  of  Mr.  StafFard,  whose  name  the  talkative 
professor  had  mentioned.  All  this  he  believed  was  the 
working  and  voice  of  an  all-governing  Providence. 

The  appearance  of  the  inhabitants  of  that  wilderness 
greatly  enhanced  his  impression  of  the  whole.  He  had 
expected  to  find  in  those  highlands,  so  remote  from  any 
frequented  road,  the  uncouth  manners  of  a  mountain 
people  ;  who,  being  in  a  continual  struggle  with  nature  for 
the  necessaries  of  life,  remain  for  ever  strangers  to  the 
refined  enjoyments  of  a  social  mode  of  living  ;  but  to  his 
astonishment,  he  found  here  the  dress  and  manners  of  a 
people  of  refinement.  Children,  as  well  as  grown  persons, 
answered  his  inquiries  with  insinuating  politeness.  Often 
was  he  accompanied  on  his  way  for  some  distance,  that 
he  might  not  mistake  the  direction.  The  very  lowest 
people  evinced  an  urbanity,  such  as  is  not  often  met  with 
in  towns.  No  one  molested  him  with  curious  inquiries. 
The  women  and  their  daughters  were  dressed  with  taste, 
their  manners  gentle,  and  the  expresssion  of  their  features 
amiable.    The  men  cleanly,  simple,  and  pleasant.  Florian 


28 


FLORIAN  : 


was  compelled  to  acknowledge  that  La  Cote-aux-Fees  was 
deserving  of  its  name.  At  least  it  had  a  fairy-like  appear- 
ance, when  the  huts  and  the  wilderness  of  a  district  were 
inhabited  by  a  community,  not  wild  and  rough  as  the  rocks 
which  surrounded  them,  but  by  men  and  women  of  noble 
manners,  who,  with  their  becomingness  of  behaviour  and 
beauty  of  person,  might  have  graced  a  palace. 

After  having  walked  for  about  an  hour,  as  night  was 
beginning  to  set  in,  a  little  boy  who  was  collecting  his 
goats,  pointed  out  to  him  the  dwelling  of  StafTard. 

It  was  a  rustic,  spacious  building,  standing  at  the  foot  of 
a  hill,  surrounded  by  maples  that  had  for  centuries  defied 
the  storms  of  time.  The  front  of  the  house  was  from 
seventy  to  eighty  feet  in  length,  and  the  same  number  in 
depth  ;  so  that  the  whole  formed  nearly  a  large  square,  with 
numerous  windows  in  front,/ and  several  doors  of  entrance. 
Above  the  lower  story  that  was  built  of  stone  and  plastered, 
rose  a  second  one  of  wood,  neatly  weather- boarded,  and 
ornamented  with  as  many  windows  as  the  lower  one.  The 
roof  was  rather  flat,  and  upon  the  wooden  shingles  were 
placed  heavy  stones  to  prevent  the  storms  from  blowing 
them  off.  The  chimney,  which  looked  more  like  a  tower, 
and  upon  the  broad  outlet  of  which  was  placed  a  moveable 
lid,  which  in  time  of  rain  could  be  let  down,  rose  to  the 
right.  An  enormous  water  spout  was  on  the  left,  through 
which  the  water  ran  from  the  roof  into  a  reservoir,  a  few 
feet  distant  from  the  house.  At  the  side,  and  a  little  apart 
from  the  building,  stood  spacious  stables.  In  front  of  the 
house,  enclosed  with  a  wooden  railing,  spread  a  large  gar- 
den, in  which  Mr.  StafTard  cultivated  his  vegetables. 

Such  was  the  dwelling  of  StafTard,  as  it  stood  solitary  and 
alone  upon  his  grounds  ;  not  differing  from  the  others  in 
that  part  of  the  country  in  structure,  but  only  in  size,  cleanli- 
ness, and  more  careful  keeping. 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


29 


At  the  moment  when  Florian  passed  round  a  stupendous 
rock,  and  the  house  was  before  his  sight,  his  ear  was 
saluted  by  a  surprising  burst  of  music.  It  was  a  well-known 
symphony  of  Haydn,  executed  with  French  horns,  flutes, 
and  clarionets.  He  remained  leaning  against  the  rock, 
that  by  his  appearance  he  might  not  interrupt  the  piece  ; 
the  clearness,  the  correctness,  and  the  tenderness  of  the 
performance  of  which  he  admired  ;  and  he  thought,  "  where 
there  are  touches  of  feeling  like  these,  a  deserted  stranger 
will  surely  find  a  welcome  and  a  resting  place  !  " 

When  the  music  ceased,  and  the  fugitive  was  approach- 
ing the  garden,  he  suddenly  almost  changed  his  opinion. 
An  enormous  wolf-dog  with  long  white  hair,  flew  at  him 
with  a  savage  growl,  and  jumped  at  his  breast.  At  the 
same  moment,  however,  several  voices  behind  the  window 
shouted  to  the  dog  to  return  ;  but  when  their  command  re- 
mained unobeyed,  they  hastened  to  the  door.  To  their 
horror  they  saw  the  furious  animal  standing  upright  against 
the  stranger,  who,  self-possessed,  called  out  to  them,  "  Send 
the  master  of  the  animal  hither,  that  he  may  take  him  away, 
otherwise  I  shall  be  compelled  to  kill  him  immediately !  " 
The  terrible  animal  whined  and  howled  frightfully.  All 
the  people  approached,  not  without  shuddering  ;  for  they 
saw  how  the  unknown  grasped  with  his  left  hand  the  dog's 
throat,  while  with  his  right  he  held  one  of  his  paws,  push- 
ing it  back  so  forcibly,  that  the  animal  opened  his  mouth 
wide  with  pain,  then  gently  touched  the  strong  fist  that  held 
him  with  his  teeth,  and  licked  it  with  his  tongue. 

"  That  man  could  tame  a  bear,"  said  one  of  the  men. 
"  You  need  not  hold  the  dog  any  longer,  sir,  he  will  not 
touch  you  again.    Begone,  Hector,  begone  !  " 

The  dog,  released  from  the  stranger's  grasp,  crept 
whining  away,  looking  fearfully  back  at  his  conqueror. 


30 


FLORIAN  : 


"  You  have  nothing  more  to  fear  from  him  now,"  said  the 
alarmed  owner  of  the  dog. 

"  I  should  not  fear  him,  were  you  even  to  set  him  on  me," 
replied  Florian  ;  "  but  I  should  feel  sorry  for  the  noble 
creature,  for  I  could  break  his  paw." 

The  by-standers  looked  at  the  dauntless  man,  with  that 
sort  of  respect  which  bodily  or  intellectual  strength  will 
always  command.  He  told  them  that  night  had  overtaken 
him  in  a  strange  country,  which  he  had  intended  to  visit 
for  pleasure.  He  just  touched  upon  his  newly-made  ac- 
quaintance, the  professor  Onyx,  and  delivered  the  respects 
which  that  personage  had  commissioned  him  to  give  to 
Mr.  Stafford. 

"  I  am  he,"  said  the  oldest  of  the  men,  in  a  deep  bass 
voice.  He  was  an  old  man  of  a  majestic  appearance,  whose 
tall,  muscular  form,  broad  chest,  noble  and  commanding 
countenance,  and  whose  gray  hair,  which  parted  on  the 
forehead,  fell  in  thick  locks  over  his  broad  shoulders  ;  all 
might  have  served  sculptors  and  painters  for  a  model  of  a 
Moses.  "  George,"  said  he,  turning  to  a  tall,  handsome 
young  man,  who  was  still  holding  a  French  horn  in  his 
hand,  "  this  stranger  will  stay  all  night  with  us  ;  therefore 
have  his  room  prepared.  You,  sir,  I  hope,  will  be  able  to 
accommodate  yourself  here.  It  would  be  late  before  you 
could  reach  a  tavern,  and  moreover,  the  ways  are  not 
easy  to  find." 

Florian  thankfully  accepted  the  invitation ;  and  all  fol- 
lowed the  old  man  into  his  hospitable  dwelling. 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


31 


CHAPTER  V. 
The  Narrative. 

After  having  gone  through  the  hall  of  the  house,  they 
entered  a  spacious  apartment ;  upon  the  hearth  of  which 
blazed  a  large  flame,  and  by  a  symmetrical  arrangement  of 
bright  plates  and  dishes,  proclaimed  itself  the  kitchen  of  the 
house.  It  bore  a  similarity  to  the  inside  of  a  tower,  for  it 
had  no  ceiling,  and  the  four  walls  gradually  diminished  in 
size  until  at  the  top  they  formed  the  aperture  of  a  wide 
chimney.  A  side  door  opened  into  a  large  sitting  room,  in 
which  were  standing  several  music  desks,  with  parts  of  the 
symphony  they  had  just  been  playing.  The  tables,  chairs, 
and  all  the  other  furniture  were  simple  and  neat,  and  made 
of  pine.  Uncommon  cleanliness  was  substituted  for  splen- 
dour of  furniture.  Engravings  of  Frederic  the  Great, 
Washington,  La  Fayette,  and  other  fellow- worthies  of  the 
age,  decorated  the  brown  paneled  walls. 

Two  of  the  musical  performers  speedily  departed,  and 
from  what  they  said,  Florian  concluded  they  were  neigh- 
bours of  Mr.  Staffard.  Before  sitting  down  to  supper,  the 
elder  Mr.  Staffard  folded  his  hands  and  invoked  the  divine 
blessing  in  a  loud  tone  of  voice.  Florian  then  received  the 
place  of  honour  between  himself  and  his  son  George.  The 
four  remaining  musicians  were  persons  in  Mr.  StafFard's 
service,  and  sat  down  to  the  table  as  friends  of  the  host. 
The  lower  end  of  the  table  was  occupied  by  the  old,  busy 
cook.  A  cheerful  conversation,  which  seasoned  the  simple 
repast,  changed  every  moment  its  tone  and  colouring,  either 
in  jest  or  seriousness.  It  touched  upon  domestic  and  agri- 
cultural affairs,  or  it  turned  to  expressions  of  friendly  interest 
in  the  unknown  guest ;  then  it  changed  to  discussions  on 
music,  or  to  the  history  of  the  day,  and  the  consequences  of 


32 


FLORIAN  : 


the  victory  achieved  by  the  Arch-duke  Charles,  against 
the  French  at  Stockach. 

Florian,  whom  nobody  had  asked  whence  he  came,  felt 
delighted  with  those  good  people  ;  and  when,  after  supper, 
he  was  left  alone  with  the  old  man  and  his  son,  he  resolved 
to  open  his  heart  to  them. 

"  Persons  will  always  remain  strangers  to  each  other, 
when  they  do  not  know  one  another,  and  do  not  give  their 
names,"  said  Florian,  "but  I  am  desirous  of  not  being  a 
stranger  to  you  ;  the  more  so,  since  I  would  gain  your  con- 
fidence, for  I  stand  in  need  of  counsel  and  protection.  You 
take  me  for  a  Swiss,  but  I  am  a  Grison.  You  think  I  travel 
for  pleasure,  but  I  am  a  fugitive,  and  seek  concealment 
among  these  mountains.  I  escaped  but  this  morning  from 
a  French  guard,  near  Pontarlier.  Imprisonment  for  life,  or 
death  awaited  me  at  Besanc,on,  for  having  sabred  a  French 
colonel  for  his  inhumanity  to  my  countrymen,  and  especially 
to  the  innocent  and  defenceless.  Am  I,  sir,  safe  upon  this 
ground,  and  in  this  sequestered  part  of  the  country,  from 
the  pursuit  of  the  French  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  said  the  old  man,  as  he  cast  a  keen  benignant 
glance  at  Florian,  "  you  are  here  on  free  and  secure  ground. 
Our  sovereign  and  protector,  the  king  of  Prussia  ,  is  at  peace 
with  the  French  republic.  No  Frenchman  dare  enter  our 
land  in  arms.  In  all  other  respects  the  law  will  protect 
you.    Wo  betide  him  who  lays  violent  hands  on  you  !  " 

Florian  gratefully  pressed  the  old  man's  hand,  and  said, 
"  My  wish  is  to  live  here  in  concealment,  as  long  as  my 
country  remains  in  a  state  of  subjection.  I  know  not  a 
soul  in  these  parts  ;  but  the  first  persons  with  whom  I  have 
met  have  gained  my  heart.  I  am  not  destitute  of  some 
property,  and  shall  consequently  not  become  a  burden  to 
any  one." 

"What  is  that?    A  burden  ?  "  exclaimed  the  old  man. 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


*'  Every  Swiss  who  asks  for  a  shelter  is  our  friend  and  ally. 
Tell  me  how  matters  have  been  going  on  in  the  Orisons. 
There  was  party- work  among  you  the  same  as  throughout 
Switzerland.  One  has  betrayed  the  other,  and  now  you  are 
all  suffering  for  it.  The  Lord  and  Father  of  your  ancestors 
has  cast  you  into  the  furnace  of  his  wrath,  that  you  may  be 
cleansed  from  your  dross.    The  fire  should  refine  you  !  " 

"  Civil  discord  never  raged  more  fiercely  than  among  the 
Grisons,"  said  Florian.  "  Each  covenant,  each  congrega- 
tion, and  even  each  family,  were  divided  among  themselves. 
But  it  was  at  the  worst,  when  the  Austrians  occupied  our 
frontier  on  one  side,  and  the  French  on  the  other.  My 
own  father  hated  me  at  last,  because  I  followed  the  dic- 
tates of  a  better  father." 

"  Hold  !  young  man,"  exclaimed  StafFard ;  "  how  can 
any  one  have  a  better  father  than  his  own  1 " 

"  Mine,  I  honoured  and  loved,  as  a  good  son  ought,"  re- 
plied Florian  ;  "  but  mercantile  affairs  and  those  of  the 
government  often  called  him  away  from  home.  The  man 
who  became  the  father  of  my  heart  and  mind  was  Nese- 
man,  one  of  the  most  venerable  of  mortals,  whose  name  I 
can  never  pronounce  without  emotion.  To  him  I  am 
indebted  for  my  education,  my  best  feelings,  and  my  benefi- 
cial knowledge.  He  was  supposed  to  be  an  adherent  of 
the  patriotic  party,  because  many  who  had  been  his  pupils 
were  at  the  head  of  it.  But  Neseman  stood  independently 
between  both,  as  becomes  a  sage.  *  In  your  sentiments,' 
he  would  say,  'be  neither  French  nor  Austrian  ;  but  being 
a  Grison,  be  a  pure  Grison,  and  a  Grison  only  !  '  Such 
I  was  !  For  that  reason  I  incurred  my  father's  dislike, 
who  being  an  old  friend  of  Count  Salis  des  Marschlins,  in 
body  and  soul  was  devoted  to  his  house,  and  consequently 
for  Austria,  and  against  France.  He  once  threatened 
even  to  disinherit  me.  His  ire  became  more  inflamed 
3 


f LOKIAN  : 


when  I  refused  to  marry  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  men  in  the  country,  whom,  without  asking 
my  pleasure,  he  had  chosen  for  his  daughter-in-law.  His 
violent  temper,  and  his  passionate  detestation  of  the  French, 
at  length  caused  his  death  ;  for  when  General  Desollcs  in- 
vaded our  mountains,  drove  out  the  Austrians,  and  made 
their  leader  General  Aufenberg  prisoner,  my  father  was 
seized  with  unspeakable  dread,  and  died  in  an  apoplectic  fit. 
I  wept  for  my  father's  death,  and  the  deplorable  condi- 
tion of  my  country,  which,  after  having  been  the  scene 
of  party  rage,  became  the  battle-field  of  foreign  armies. 
All  joy  fled  from  our  valleys.  I  lived  retired  and  secluded 
from  all  public  affairs  ;  but  immeasurable  grief  and  deep 
resentment  burned  in  the  hearts  of  the  people.  They 
could  not  habituate  themselves  to  the  sight  of  foreign  sol- 
diers, who  strutted  like  conquerors  upon  a  free  soil,  and 
commanded  the  people  at  their  own  hearths  ! 

"  I  soon  heard  that  a  rising  was  contemplated  for  the 
purpose  of  expelling  the  French.  From  the  inmost  re- 
cesses of  the  Oberland,  from  Crispalt  and  Lukmanier,  the 
insurrection  was  to  roll  on  like  a  Lawine  along  the  valley 
of  the  Rhine  to  Coire,  where,  *  after  having  overpowered 
the  Luziensterg,  they  were  to  be  joined  by  German  armies. 
I  also  was  called  upon,  but  I  continued  firm  to  my  pur- 
pose, of  not  offering  a  helping  hand.  No  insurrection,  no 
land-storm  could  save  us.  Hence  I  would  not  assist  either 
the  Austrian  or  the  French  generals  in  their  plans,  who 
sought  not  our  welfare,  but  to  occupy  the  narrow  moun- 
tain passes  of  the  Grisons.  Neither  would  I  aid  the 
plans  of  factious  men,  whose  sole  object  was,  not  the  free- 
dom of  our  mountain  land,  but  the  gratification  of  their  own 
revenge.  They  menaced  me  if  I  should  withdraw  myself 
from  the  cause  of  my  country.  I  gave  them  menaces  for 
menaces,  and  was  let  alone  ! 


THE  FUGITIVE  OP  THE  JURA. 


35 


"  One  morning  I  was  aroused  early  from  sleep  by  the 
intelligence  that  the  Landsturm  was  coming  down  from 
the  Oberland.  A  detachment  of  French  soldiers  had  been 
attacked  by  the  peasants  while  at  dinner,  made  prisoners 
at  Tawetsch,  in  the  extreme  mountain  valley,  near  the 
St.  Gothard,  and  then  had  been  sent  prisoners  to  Disentis. 
There  a  French  captain  with  his  company  made  a  fruitless 
resistance  against  the  swelling  multitude.  After  a  bloody 
affray  he  was  overpowered.  As  night  came  on,  he  and 
his  men  were  secured  in  the  council-house.  Clamour 
and  disquietude  spread  far  and  distant  through  the  moun- 
tains, until  it  was  re-echoed  in  the  huts  of  the  highest  Alps. 
New  and  variously-armed  multitudes  rushed  down  from 
the  mountains  and  out  of  the  valleys,  clamouring  loudly 
for  the  death  of  the  French  prisoners.  The  Deacon  of 
the  convent,  with  several  of  his  monks,  begged  the  furious 
multitude  on  their  knees  to  spare  the  lives  of  the  prisoners. 
But  the  people  were  blind  with  rage,  and  threatened  even 
these  intercessors  with  murderous  weapons.  When  the  pri- 
soners, amounting  to  more  than  a  hundred,  were  dragged 
outside  the  village,  the  mob  sprang  at  them  with  a  fiendish 
howl,  and  massacred  them  in  the  most  inhuman  manner. 

"  After  this  atrocious  deed,  the  long  train  of  the  Land- 
sturm, armed  with  rifles  and  pikes,  scythes,  clubs  and  sickles, 
marched  onward.  They  howled  and  shrieked  as  they 
passed  my  windows,  and  called  on  me  to  follow  them — 
*  You  are  rushing  to  your  own  destruction' — I  called  out, 
with  a  warning  voice,  but  they  answered  me  by  discharg- 
ing two  rifle  shots  through  the  window.  In  every  village 
through  which  they  passed,  more  were  added  to  their  dis- 
orderly number,  until  the  bloodthirsty  hordes  arrived  at 
Coire.  There,  in  the  meadow  before  the  city,  after  a  most 
frightful  manner  they  met  the  fate  which  I  had  predicted. 
Their  furious  desperation  availed  them  nothing.  Great 


30 


FLORIAN  : 


was  the  number  of  those  who  fell  on  the  field  of  battle  ;  many 
died  of  their  wounds  in  the  adjacent  woods  and  clefts  ; 
while  the  few  who  escaped  dispersed  in  every  direction. 

"  My  heart  trembled  within  me,  when  I  heard  of  the 
terrible  results  of  this  undertaking,  and  of  the  return  of  the 
Landsturm.  I  knew  that  I  was  threatened  with  death,  and 
my  house  with  destruction.  The  revenge  of  half  savage, 
desperate  peasants,  knows  no  limits.  I  made  myself  ready. 
My  papers  and  valuables  were  already  in  safety,  and  in 
case  of  necessity,  I  was  prepared  for  flight ;  for  I  had  pro- 
vided myself  with  money,  loaded  my  pistols,  and  sharpened 
my  sword.  Alas  !  this  precaution  against  my  unfortunate 
countrymen  was  useless.  With  countenances  as  pale  as 
death,  and  with  panic  fear,  they  fled  through  the  village, 
without  even  thinking  of  the  accomplishment  of  their 
menaces.  The  victorious  army  pursued  them,  and  mur- 
dered all  who  fell  into  their  hands. 

"  The  village  was  soon  filled  with  soldiery.  Being  the 
only  person  in  the  whole  village  that  spoke  the  French 
language,  I  had  united  with  the  superiors  of  the  town  for 
the  purpose  of  preventing  disorder.  At  my  suggestion, 
refreshments  were  distributed  among  the  military.  I  spoke 
to  General  Menard.  He  promised  to  enforce  good  order  ; 
and  for  that  purpose,  commanded  a  colonel  of  brigade  to 
attend  me. 

"  The  soldiers  already  had  broken  into  some  of  the  houses. 
As  we  passed  one  of  them,  I  was  startled  by  dreadful 
piercing  shrieks.  It  was  the  dwelling  of  a  widow  and  her 
three  lovely  daughters.  I  rushed  in.  Soldiers  laden  with 
plunder  met  me  on  the  stairs,  while  the  others  were  en- 
gaged bursting  open  doors  and  closets.  In  the  room 
whence  the  cries  proceeded,  I  saw  one  of  the  daughters 
lying  on  the  floor  weltering  in  her  blood ;  while  the  two 
sisters  of  the  murdered  girl,  and  the  mother,  were  struggling 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


37 


in  the  dissolute  arms  of  several  ruffians.  *  Call  these  men 
to  order  !  ' — I  cried  out  to  the  colonel  of  brigade  who  was 
standing  at  my  side,  *  or  I  shall  pierce  the  hearts  of  these 
monsters  before  your  eyes.'  Perceiving  no  answer,  I 
rushed  upon  the  villains,  grappled  them,  and  flung  them 
out  of  the  door,  one  after  another.  The  colonel,  at  first 
surprised  at  this  act,  pursued  me  into  the  street,  with  his 
sword  drawn,  and  was  about  to  run  it  through  my  body. 
I  drew  mine  and  made  resistance.  When  our  swords  met, 
the  soldiers  placed  themselves  in  a  ring  around  us,  and 
became  anxious  spectators  ;  but  when  my  sword  instantly 
felled  the  colonel  to  the  ground,  and  his  blood  spirted  into 
the  air  ;  I  was  seized  from  behind,  thrown  to  the  earth, 
disarmed,  and  should  have  fallen  a  victim  to  their  fury,  had 
not  the  general  appeared  on  the  spot.  On  his  inquiring 
what  was  the  matter,  the  soldiers  accused  me  of  being  the 
chief  of  the  rebels.  I  related  to  him  the  whole  proceedings 
of  the  occurrence  ;  but  was  arrested,  bound  with  two  cords, 
thrown  into  a  cart,  and  conveyed  to  Coire.  Thence  I  was 
brought  a  captive  into  Switzerland.  It  seemed,  however, 
that  they  knew  not  where  to  go  with  me  ;  for  I  was  first 
taken  to  Basle,  then  towards  Lausanne.  General  Menard 
perhaps  purposed  to  give  the  matter  an  appearance  of  rigid 
justice,  and  thus  save  me  from  the  fury  of  his  soldiers  ;  or 
to  deliver  me  into  the  hands  of  a  court-martial,  which  by 
the  continual  conflicts  with  the  Austrians,  could  never  be 
.brought  together.  Perhaps  I  was  destined  to  be  imprisoned 
in  Les  Salines,  or  some  other  French  fortress,  and  there  be 
kept,  as  one  of  the  instigators  of  the  massacre  at  Disentis. 
Under  which  pretext,  several  others  innocent,  afterwards 
were  conveyed  into  France.  This  morning,  I  already  saw 
the  spires  of  Pontarlier,  when  I  disarmed  my  guards,  and 
escaped." 

"  How  many  guards  had  you  ?  "  asked  George. 


38 


FLORIAN  : 


"  Two  soldiers  with  loaded  muskets  sat  in  the  cart,  one 
on  each  side  of  me.  I  battered  their  heads  together,  and 
broke  them  like  earthen  vases.  While  they  were  reeling 
senseless  in  the  cart,  I  smashed  their  muskets  in  pieces, 
threw  away  the  parts,  and  fled  to  the  mountain." 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Friends. 

The  two  StafFards  looked  with  astonishment  at  their 
guest,  who  related  his  adventures  with  a  calmness  as 
though  he  was  speaking  of  every-day  occurrences.  There 
was  in  his  attractive  countenance,  so  much  mildness,  friend- 
liness, and  almost  feminine  softness,  that  they  might  have 
been  induced  to  doubt  his  courage  and  strength  in  such 
terrible  dangers,  had  they  not  witnessed,  only  a  few  hours 
before,  how  he  had  handled  their  neighbour's  ferocious 
wolf-dog,  as  one  would  a  lap-dog. 

"If  you  will  now" — resumed  Florian — "  give  me  a 
promise,  to  keep  profound  secrecy  in  respect  to  this  adven- 
ture I  have  confided  to  you,  and  will  procure  me  a  shelter 
where  I  may  remain  during  the  summer,  either  as  a  man 
who  has  taken  his  abode  here  for  the  sake  of  his  health,  or 
as  a  naturalist,  my  most  ardent  wish  for  the  present  will 
be  gratified.  To-morrow  I  shall  go  to  the  capital,  have  an 
interview  with  the  royal  governor,  provide  myself  with 
several  articles  of  which  I  stand  in  need,  and  then  return 
to  La  Cote-aux-Fees." 

The  two  Staffards  extended  their  hands  across  the  table 
to  the  fugitive,  and  pressed  his  with  friendly  cordiality, 
which  was  more  eloquent  than  their  words.  "  You  shall 
stay  with  us  ;  our  house  and  table  are  large  enough." 

"  Ha  ! "  exclaimed  George,  and  his  eyes  sparkled  with 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


enthusiasm — "  had  I  been  with  you,  we  should  have  fought 
side  by  side.  The  mountaineers  of  the  whole  country 
round,  should  have  risen  and  fought  for  safety  and  liberty. 
Alas,  that  you  should  have  stood  alone  in  the  Grisons,  and 
the  gallant  Aloys  Reding  alone  in  the  shepherd  Cantons  ! 
Why  did  not  an  army  of  devoted  Swiss  rise,  and  join 
against  the  foreign  tyrant  ?  Why  is  not  Switzerland  blessed 
with  more  men  like  yourself  1 " 

"  Like  me  ?  "  said  Florian,  with  a  smile  of  astonish* 
ment.  "  There  were  ten  thousand  instead  of  one.  But 
single  men,  standing  alone,  could  not  save.  A  whole  na- 
tion must  rise  when  a  great  deed  is  to  be  achieved.  But 
all  love  of  the  nation  was  dissolved  in  royal  party-spirit, 
and  individual  interest.  Federalism  had  so  entirely 
annihilated  nationality,  that  even  the  most  distinguished 
men  of  Switzerland  knew  nothing  of  the  Eidsgenos- 
senschaft,  for  their  whole  knowledge  scarcely  reaches 
beyond  their  own  cantons.  Aloys  Reding  was  with  me 
two  years  ago.  We  became  acquainted  at  the  castle  Orten- 
stern,  where  he  was  on  a  visit  to  his  friends.  His  fine  figure, 
the  resolute  glance  of  his  large  blue  eye,  and  the  exalted 
good-nature  expressed  in  all  his  actions  and  movements, 
soon  engaged  my  heart.  We  spoke  of  the  dangers  with 
which  Switzerland  was  threatened,  and  of  the  probability 
of  an  attack  from  a  French  army.  He  himself  could  not 
believe  in  the  probability.  He  said  :  '  If  the  devastators 
of  the  world  were  actually  to  invade  our  country,  I  know 
not  what  the  other  cantons  might  do  ;  I  do  not  trust  the 
most  of  them  ;  but  in  our  lower  cantons  the  French  would  find 
their  graves.  I  would  tear  my  hair  with  shame,'  he  con- 
tinued, raising  his  hand  to  his  golden  locks — '  if  but  one 
Swiss  thought  differently  from  me.' — 1  But, '  said  I,  4  your 
little  land,  and  the  more  than  superior  power  of  France, 
are  like  the  struggle  of  a  moth  with  an  eagle.'  Reding 


40 


FLORIAxX  : 


did  not  like  to  pursue  the  subject  any  farther.  With  a  mien 
and  air  full  of  pride  and  confidence,  as  if  to  tranquillize  my 
mind  as  well  as  his  own,  he  added,  '  We  have  never  yet 
been  vanquished,  and  never  shall  be  !  '  So  unsuspecting, 
80  short-sighted,  and  so  inexperienced,  were  the  best  men 
in  Switzerland  !  " 

"  Sir,  you  are  right !  "  cried  the  elder  Staffard,  striking 
the  table  with  his  powerful  fist,  in  holy  wrath.  "  The 
Eidsgenossenschaft  had  long  since  ceased  to  be  ;  all  true 
notion  of  liberty  and  republican  magnanimity  had  bidden 
adieu  to  the  country.  The  smaller  cantons  were  full  of  self- 
interest,  beggary  and  ignorance  ;  and  the  larger  ones  are 
replete  with  superciliousness,  rodomontade,  and  mean 
trickery.  Government  has  become  a  source  of  specula- 
tion ;  the  love  of  peace,  timid  cowardice  ;  and  politics, 
an  old  woman's  gossip,  phrase-making  and  mystery-mak- 
ing !  could  anything  but  destruction  result  from  such  a  state 
of  things  ?  unless,  indeed,  our  Master  above  would  send 
down  miracles  by  lightning  to  stop  its  progress.  I  have 
seen  a  great  deal  of  Switzerland — every  where  are  fine 
people — but  their  maxim  is  this — '  Eveky  one  for  him- 
self, and  God  for  us  all  ! ' " 

"  But  " — exclaimed  George — "  father,  since  every  thing 
is  lying  in  the  abyss  of  destruction,  they  must  make  a 
struggle  to  rise.  If  love  for  liberty  does  not  incite  them 
to  glorious  deeds,  despair  will.  The  Arch-duke  Charles  is 
marching  onward  toward  Zurich  and  the  St.  Gothard,  the 
French  are  flying.  Now  is  the  time  for  the  Swiss  to  rise 
and  join  the  Arch-duke  Charles,  to  hurl  destruction  upon 
every  Frenchman  whose  foot  is  on  our  ground." 

"  For  what  purpose  ?  To  give  the  citizens  of  the  town 
their  bailiwicks  back  again  ?  " — said  Florian.  "  The 
oppressed  people  do  not  wish  it.  Make  those  who  now  are 
slaves,  free  men  of  Switzerland  ?    The  old  counsellors  are 


THE   FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


41 


opposed  to  it.  To  be  commanded  by  Russians,  or  Austrians, 
instead  of  by  the  French  ?  The  men  of  sense  are  against 
it.  The  time  has  not  yet  arrived.  The  must  on  the  con- 
trary is  now  beginning  to  ferment.  Now  the  self-interest 
and  pride  of  individuals  are  beginning  to  fight  the  battle  of 
life  and  death  ;  till  at  length  they  will  be  annihilated,  and 
change  into  a  public  spirit.  The  parties  will  jostle  against 
each  other  with  unrestrained  fury  ;  until  they  have  ground 
themselves  altogether  into  pieces,  and  thus  become  one 
mass." 

"  The  will  of  heaven  be  done  !  "  exclaimed  the  elder 
Staffard. 

"Oh!  the  poor  people  of  Switzerland!"  ejaculated 
George. 

During  this  conversation  the  fugitive  had  wound  himself 
so  completely  round  the  heart  of  Staffard  and  George,  that 
he  was  no  longer  a  stranger,  but  an  intimate  and  beloved 
friend.  Fatigued  from  the  exertions  and  adventures  of  the 
day,  in  the  consciousness  of  the  liberty  of  which  he  had  been 
so  long  deprived,  and  of  personal  security,  for  the  first  time 
in  four  weeks,  Florian  enjoyed  a  sound  refreshing  sleep. 

His  mind  was  still  lighter,  when  he  awoke  the  next 
morning.  He  exulted,  that  Divine  Providence  had  conducted 
him  to  the  house  of  such  worthy  people.  He  walked  to 
the  double  window  of  his  clean  and  comfortable  room ;  the 
outer  windows  of  which,  although  in  the  midst  of  summer, 
had  not  been  removed,  so  that  the  roses,  pinks,  and  other 
plants,  which  were  standing  between  the  two  sashes,  might 
not  suffer  from  the  outward  air,  giving  evidence  of  the  in- 
clemency of  the  weather  in  those  high  mountains,  where 
the  summers  are  scarcely  of  more  than  seven  weeks' 
duration.  The  view  over  the  hills,  meadows,  and  rocks, 
recalled  the  silence  and  the  uniformity  of  the  Alpine  world. 
In  the  garden  he  saw  the  common  poplar,  and  the  oak — 
3* 


42 


FLORIAN  J 


which,  in  the  valleys  and  beside  the  rivulets,  planted  as 
ornamental  trees,  grow  to  a  great  size — so  short  and 
crippled,  that  he  scarcely  recognised  them.  Beside  those, 
he  beheld  the  linden  tree,  and  the  mulberry.  Goats  were 
clambering  on  the  rocks,  and  from  afar,  he  heard  the  dis- 
tant sound  of  the  herd-bells.  "  The  poorer  nature  is  here, 
the  purer  are  the  people  and  their  hearts  !  " — he  remarked. 

In  the  morning,  the  old  man  and  his  son  received  him 
like  a  friend  whom  they  had  known  during  many  years  ; 
and  who  had  just  returned  after  a  long  absence.  The  future 
plans  of  Florian  on  La  Cote-aux-Fees  were  discussed. 
That  he  should  remain  an  inmate  of  Staffard's  house,  was 
fully  understood.  On  his  return  from  Neufchatel,  he 
was  to  find  his  comfortable  apartment,  and  be  introduced 
to  the  neighbours. 

George  accompanied  him  to  Les  Verrieres,  that  he  might 
procure  for  his  friend  a  vehicle  to  convey  him  to  the  capital. 
But  they  suffered  the  carriage  to  go  on  in  advance,  in  order 
to  bid  each  other  farewell.  The  hearts  of  the  young  men 
were  united.  They  became  brothers  :  "  I  feel  as  if  I  were 
drawn  by  a  magic  spell  towards  thee,"  exclaimed  George, 
embracing  his  friend — "  and  yet  I  have  only  known  thee 
since  yesterday.    I  cannot  explain  this  to  myself." 

"And  I,"  replied  Florian,  "  have  never  found  one  so  en- 
tirely like  my  own  heart,  as  yourself,  George  ;  and  I  have 
seen  many.  But  I  can  explain  it.  You  are  the  better 
man,  George  ;  and  are  infinitely  more  natural  than  I  am. 
In  your  society  I  shall  amend." 

"  Oh  !  Florian,"  said  George,  the  blood  mounting  to  his 
cheeks,  "  What  are  you  saying  ?  you,  of  whom  1  do  not 
know,  whether  I  love  you,  because  I  admire  you,  or  whether 
I  admire  you,  because  I  love  you.  You  become  better !  I 
wonder  what  my  Claudine  will  say  of  you,  when  she  has 
seen  you  ? " 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JtTKA. 


Is  that  your  love,  George  ?  "  inquired  Florian. 

"  My  betrothed,"  was  the  answer  ;  "  we  celebrate  our 
wedding  in  the  autumn.  You  must  be  one  of  the  guests* 
And  you,  Florian,  have  you  not  found  a  love  yet  ?  " 

"  No,  George,"  returned  the  fugitive,  "  I  dare  not 
"think  of  that  now.  The  times  are  too  turbulent.  I  must 
remain  unfettered.  My  country  may  have  farther  need  ot 
me.  How  could  I  draw  a  poor  creature  into  misery ;  when 
I  most  probably  shall  have  to  plunge  myself  into  the  hor* 
rors  of  this  contentious  age  ?" 

Thus,  like  brothers,  they  Confided  their  mutual  secrets 
to  each  other's  keeping.  They  then  separated,  with  the 
cheerful  prospect  of  a  speedy  reunion. 


CHAPTER  VII, 
The  Chain. 

Florian  hastened  after  the  vehicle.  The  morning  was 
cool  and  pleasant.  The  country  was  new  to  him  ;  and  his 
heart  was  full  of  delight.  He  walked  slow,  in  order  to 
Cnjoy  his  happiness  in  ample  measure.  In  the  Grisons  he 
had  never  met  *with  such  pure,  confidential  cordiality,  as 
George  and  his  father  had  shown  him.  It  is  true,  he  had 
associated  in  his  native  valley  with  his  companions  of  the 
chase,  as  old  associates ;  but  to  none  of  them  all  had  he  given 
himself  so  entirely  up,  and  unfolded  his  heart  so  candidly, 
as  he  had  done  at  Standard's.  In  the  Grisons,  party,  family, 
or  money  and  other  affairs,  had  stained  the  pure  feelings  of 
the  heart,  and  introduced  a  certain  restraint  upon  a  hilarious 
and  candid  life.  There  he  had  been  compelled  to  be  cau- 
tious in  his  friendships,  and  ever  to  be  on  his  guard.  On 
the  contrary,  at  La  Cote-aux-Fees,  he  had  found  a  world 


PXOBIAN  ; 


where  men  lived  more  in  accordance  with  the  dictates  of 
their  hearts,  than  by  the  results  of  a  cool  calculation. 

In  his  silent  joy  his  journey  was  like  a  floating  dance 
through  the  green  valleys.  The  long,  sloping  acclivities, 
on  either  side,  were  enlivened  occasionally  by  a  rustic 
dwelling  with  its  garden ;  all  of  the  same  structure  as 
Standard's  house.  The  acclivities  to  the  right  and  left  soon 
joined  together,  and  thus  terminated  the  valley ;  and  as  he 
ascended  them,  he  felt  as  if  he  was  in  the  path  to  heaven. 

Here  he  was  met  by  a  long  train  of  one-horse  carts,  used  for 
transporting  goods.  The  collars  of  the  horses,  according 
to  the  custom  of  the  country,  were  hung  with  blue  sheep- 
skins, and  the  drivers  walked  at  their  sides  singing  their 
wild  and  beautiful  mountain  strains.  The  herd-bells  from 
above,  where  the  cows  were  grazing  on  the  edge  of  pine- 
woods,  made  an  agreeable  accompaniment.  Small  shepherd 
boys  shouted  merrily,  and  walked  upon  the  lower  stone- 
fences,  which  being  skilfully  constructed  of  round  stones, 
without  mortar  to  cement  them,  enclosed  extensive  pasture 
grounds.  Everything  in  this  lovely  wilderness,  from  the 
summit  of  which  he  could  see  the  scattered  huts  of  the 
Bayards  to  the  right,  and  before  him,  the  valley  of  Les 
V'errieres,  appeared  more  charming  to  the  fugitive  than  any 
landscape  which  he  had  yet  beheld  in  Switzerland. 

After  having  passed  the  top  of  the  hill,  a  little  to  the  left 
of  the  road,  he  saw  the  woods  and  recks  before  him  again 
joined  together,  as  if  to  block  up  the  outlet ;  but  soon  again, 
the  mountains  opened  like  a  gorge,  just  wide  enough  to  let 
the  road  pass  through  at  that  place.  Florian  suddenly 
observed  two  young  women,  in  white  dresses,  whose  laugh- 
ing gestures  seemed  to  indicate  that  they  were  amusing 
themselves  at  his  expense. 

Serious  as  both  pretended  to  be  when  he  approached 
them,  one  of  the  young  ladies  nevertheless  could  not  over- 


THE   FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA 


45 


come  her  risibility,  but  burst  into  loud  laughter.  The 
other  concealed  her  face  beneath  her  broad  straw-bonnet. 
They  were  standing  beside*an  enormous  iron  chain,  fastened 
to  a  rock,  and  hanging  down  in  a  small  hollow ;  which,  in 
days  of  yore,  had  most  probably  been  used  for  barricading 
the  valley. 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  said  the  laughing  damsel,  with  a 
graceful  bow,  towards  Florian,  "  for  availing  myself  of  your 
manly  strength,  in  assisting  me  to  barricade  the  country 
with  this  chain.  You  see,  sir,  my  dear  friend  here,  threat- 
ens to  leave  our  valley  ;  but  no  matter,  whether  in  jest  or 
earnest,  she  gave  me  her  promise  to  stay,  if  I  should  be 
able  to  obstruct  her  passage  with  this  chain.  But  I  have 
been  labouring  in  vain  ;  and  I  am  sure  that  Heaven  has  sent 
you  to  my  assistance.  So  be  kind  enough  to  help  me,  sir. 
But  to  stretch  this  gigantic  chain,  I  fear,  requires  a  giant's 
strength,  for  I  cannot  lift  even  as  much  as  two  links  of  it." 

"  For  the  sake  of  preserving  you  a  friend,  Miss,  I  could 
become  a  giant,"  said  Florian,  taking  hold  of  the  large 
rattling  rings,  and  placing  the  outer  end  of  it  in  the  small 
delicate  hand  of  the  laughing  damsel,  he  stretched  the  chain 
across  the  road. 

"I  have  conquered,  I  have  conquered,  Hermione  !"  ex- 
claimed the  rejoiced  damsel,  clapping  her  hands,  and  dancing 
like  a  merry  sylph  before  the  chain,  "  your  word  of  promise 
ought  to  bind  ^ou  more  firmly  than  this  chain,  which  no 
giant  could  burst." 

The  conquered  Hermione,  first  lifted  her  head  and  looked 
at  the  chain,  then  with  embarrassment  at  him,  who  was 
holding  it  like  a  piece  of  thread.  There  was  a  certain  in- 
tensity, mingled  with  the  look,  that  betrayed  more  to  the 
stranger  than  she  would  have  been  willing  to  have 
acknowledged  ;  when  suddenly  recollecting  herself,  a  flush 


4(3 


FLORIAN  t 


might  have  been  seen  overspreading  her  fine  intellectual 
countenance,  like  the  reflection  of  a  burning  evening  red. 

Florian  also  stood  like  one  spell-bound,  before  the  beau- 
teous image,  that  floated  in  charming  confusion  before  his 
eyes.  He  knew  not  whether  she  had  appeared  to  him  be- 
fore ;  or  whether  the  idol  of  his  dreams  had  gone  into 
actual  life. 

"  You  have  conquered,  my  friend,"  said  Hermione,  with 
a  soft,  gentle  voice,  "but  not  by  your  own  strength." 

"  I  am  proud  to  have  been  an  assistant  in  this  victory," 
said  Florian,  "  as  for  centuries,  this  chain  has  kept  confined 
nothing  better  in  this  happy  country." 

"  A  conqueror  is  not  called  to  an  account  for  the  means 
he  took  in  achieving  his  victory,"  exclaimed  the  other  joy- 
ous girl,  throwing  her  arm  round  Hermione,  "you  are  my 
prisoner,  and  to  you,  sir,  I  give  my  grateful  acknowledg- 
ments for  the  booty." 

At  that  moment  a  light  travelling  caleche  came  rolling 
towards  them,  and  stopped  before  the  chain.  The  ladies, 
assisted  by  Florian,  got  into  it.  "  Alas,"  said  he  softly,  and 
his  tone  was  that  of  an  ejaculation,  "  it  is  now  that  I  ought 
to  stretch  the  chain.  Nothing  of  the  booty  remains  for  me, 
save  remembrance." 

"  But  you  are  magnanimous,"  exclaimed  the  one  who 
rejoiced  in  her  victory,  with  a  grateful  bow.  Hermione 
remained  silent,  and  gazed  at  Florian  Ion?  and  intently ; 
but  when  her  eye  encountered  his  parting  glance,  she 
blushed  deeply,  and  quickly  averted  her  face.  The  carriage 
drove  down  the  mountain.  Florian  did  not  take  his  eyes 
from  it,  until  it  had  disappeared  behind  the  bushes  and  rocks. 

He  then  suddenly  exclaimed,  "  It  can  be  no  other,  it 
must  be  herself!"  He  then  fell  into  a  fit  of  musing, 
heaved  a  long  breath,  and  said,  "  It  is  herself!"  He  meant 
Hermione.    He  remembered  to  have  seen  that  form,  that 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA.  4? 

Madonna-like  face,  shaded  by  light  chesnut  curls,  in  his  own 
country.  It  was  at  the  castle  garden  at  Reichenau,  when 
a  company  of  French  officers  with  some  ladies  were  be- 
holding from  the  highest  terrace  the  confluence  of  the 
upper  and  lower  Rhine,  at  the  foot  of  the  rocks.  There  it 
was,  where  he  had  satisfied  the  curiosity  of  the  strangers, 
in  regard  to  the  names  of  the  mountains  and  places,  while 
the  ladies  were  attentively  listening  to  him.  There  were 
the  wild  and  rocky  Kalanda  at  the  right,  with  Tamiens  be- 
neath the  steep  walls  of  rock.  In  the  back  ground  of  an 
extensive  meadow  could  be  seen  the  huts  of  Bonaduz  ;  and 
farther  on,  rose  the  antique  walls  of  the  fortress  Rhaezuens. 
Scarcely  three  Weeks  had  elapsed  since  that  meeting,  where 
that  scenery  was  surveyed.  He  then  had  not  spoken  to 
Hermione,  nor  had  he  heard  her  voice ;  he  only  had  seen 
her,  wrapped  in  a  travelling  dress  for  winter  weather,  like 
the  half-enclosed  beauty  of  a  moss-rose  bursting  into  bloom. 
But  she  did  not  stay  long ;  but  on  departing  with  her  com* 
panions,  she  turned  toward  him,  and  threw  at  him  a  glance 
which  awoke  sentiments  in  his  breast,  to  which,  until  then, 
he  had  been  an  entire  stranger.  His  eyes  had  rested  on 
one  of  nature's  master-works.  He  felt  that  the  unknown 
beauty  would  rob  him  of  his  peace  of  mind,  were  he  often 
to  see  her  ;  nevertheless,  he  delighted  to  think  of  her.  He 
was  twice  induced  to  take  a  journey  to  Reichenau  and  the 
city  of  Coire,  hoping  to  see  her  once  more,  if  only  at  a  dis- 
tance. His  wanderings,  however,  were  fruitless.  Yet  on 
his  return  to  his  home,  he  never  failed  to  visit  the  castle - 
garden,  and  to  lay  himself  down  on  the  spot  which  her  foot- 
steps had  marked.  He  did  not  know  whether  his  heart  or 
his  imagination  had  sustained  an  injury ;  and  although  he 
reproached  himself  for  this  secret  folly,  yet  he  encouraged 
his  pleasing  infatuation. 

"  It  is  certainly  she !  "  he  said,  and,  heaving  a  long 


48 


1-LORIAN  : 


breath,  he  left  the  chain  and  continued  his  journey,  dis- 
quieted and  agitated.  "  How  cruel  is  my  destiny,  thus  to 
cast  her  again  in  my  way,  but  for  a  few  moments  !  There 
she  goes,  without  having  the  remotest  idea  of  the  sorrow 
she  leaves  behind.  She  goes  back  to  her  own  country, 
perhaps  to  France  !  " 

At  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  before  the  inviting  little 
town  of  St.  Sulpice,  he  found  his  Caleche  waiting  for  him. 
The  loveliness  of  the  vale  fenced  in  by  the  mountains,  had 
no  effect  upon  him.  Heedlessly  he  passed  through  the 
serene  country,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Montiers,  where  to 
the  right,  upon  a  rocky  hill,  grown  over  with  bushes,  rose 
in  solemn  grandeur  the  ruins  of  the  fortress  Chatelard. 
It  was  only  after  a  few  hours'  ride,  when  the  driver  stopped 
at  the  village  of  Travers,  that  he  awoke  from  his  dreamy 
indifference. 

As  he  was  sitting  upon  a  bench  before  the  inn,  and 
watching  the  gambols  of  some  children  in  a  barn  opposite 
to  him,  he  descried  a  tall  female  figure  coming  out  of  a 
neighbouring  smithy,  and  taking  the  road  by  which  he  had 
just  entered  the  village.  Though  he  only  saw  her  from 
behind,  and  at  a  distance,  nevertheless,  by  the  uncommon 
stature  of  the  woman,  her  rapid  strides,  and  the  crutch  in 
her  hand,  he  recognised  her  who  had  appeared  to  him  at 
the  summit  of  Le  Gros  Taureau. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Mother  Morne. 

He  felt  no  inclination  to  follow  her,  and  to  renew  an  ac- 
quaintance that  had  very  little  attraction  for  him.  On  the 
contrary,  the  unexpected  sight  of  the  Sybil  excited  a  pain- 
ful sensation,  something  like  shame  and  annoyance,  for 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


49 


his  having  permitted  the  strange  old  woman  to  fill  him  with 
superstitious  fear.  He  turned  all  his  attention  to  the  sports 
of  the  children,  but  in  the  midst  of  them  floated  Hermi- 
one's  image,  in  the  white  light  of  her  snowy  garments, 
and  in  the  golden  radiance  of  her  brown  ringlets. 

Suddenly  the  thought  flashed  across  his  mind — "  How  ! 
could  not  the  old  woman  of  the  mountain  tell  me  who  Her- 
mione  is  ?  Whom  should  I  ask,  if  not  of  this  Sybil  ?  She 
knows  the  land,  the  inhabitants  ;  she  knows  so  much  !  " 
He  arose  hastily  from  the  bench,  stood  for  some  time  lost 
in  thought,  and  then  slowly  sat  down  again  ;  for  he  per- 
ceived the  folly  of  the  suggestion.  Hermione,  whom  he 
had  first  seen  in  the  Grisons,  in  company  with  some  officers, 
was  plainly  a  foreigner,  and  probably  on  her  return  to 
France.  Even  the  dust  on  her  travelling  carriage  gave 
evidence  of  the  fact.  But — and  a  ray  of  joy  dispersed  the 
clouds  on  his  countenance — but  her  companion  she  threat- 
ened to  leave  in  the  valley  !  what  valley,  if  not  that  of  Les 
Verrieres  ;  perhaps  also  that  of  Pontarlier  ?  All  the  same — 
she  is  unquestionably  now  staying  in  these  parts,  and  the 
old  woman  may  consequently  know  something  of  her. 
Thus  he  communed  with  himself,  arose,  and  hastened  in 
pursuit  of  the  Sybil. 

But  when  he  arrived  in  the  open  country,  as  he  could 
not  see  her  anywhere,  he  inquired  of  a  peasant  who  came 
toward  him,  and  to  whom  he  described  the  old  woman's 
appearance. 

"  Ah  !  I  understand  you,"  said  the  peasant.  "  You  mean 
Mother  Morne,  as  we  generally  call  her.  If  you  will 
hasten  your  steps,  you  may  perhaps  overtake  her  at  a  short 
distance  hence.    She  is  on  the  road  to  Couvet." 

"  What  sort  of  a  woman  is  this  Mother  Morne  1  I  met 
her  yesterday  ;  she  said  many  things  that  were  true,  and 
yet  I  knew  her  not." 


50 


FLORIATT  : 


"  I  willingly  believe  it,  sir.  She  is  a  strange  woman, 
perhaps  not  always  in  her  right  senses.  Notwithstanding, 
she  is  a  good  woman.  Many  consider  her  a  witch,  who 
holds  intercourse  with  evil  spirits.  But  that  is  supersti- 
tion !  However,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  she  knows 
more  than  other  folks,  and  that  nobody  can  understand  her. 
She  has  foretold  events  that  have  come  to  pass,  though 
nobody  believed  in  them  at  the  time.  She  has  charms  by 
which  she  allays  all  diseases.  People  have  been  known 
to  recover  from  severe  attacks  of  sickness  by  her  merely 
placing  her  hands  upon  the  patients.  She  has  brought 
things  to  light,  of  the  very  existence  of  which,  nobody 
knew  anything.  No  one  knows  of  what  religion  she  is, 
for  she  goes  to  no  church,  but  sometimes  she  is  found  in 
the  woods  on  her  knees,  with  her  hands  folded.  She  is 
never  at  rest,  but  continually  wandering  about ;  and  yet 
she  has  no  money,  nor  does  she  accept  of  any.  Her 
home  is  nowhere  and  everywhere  !  It  is  immaterial  to  her 
whether  she  travels  in  summer  or  in  winter,  by  day  or  by 
night.  She  would  never  sleep  more  than  three  hours, 
were  she  even  to  rest  upon  a  bed  of  down." 

The  peasant  would  have  continued  to  pour  out  all  his 
knowledge  of  that  singular  old  woman,  had  not  Florian 
been  fearful  of  losing  her,  if  he  staid  to  listen  any  longer. 
He  therefore  thanked  the  peasant,  and  ran  away  at  full 
speed. 

At  length  he  got  sight  of  her  figure  in  the  distance. 
She  left  the  high  road,  moved  across  the  fields,  and  then 
made  straight  for  the  mountains.  He  followed  her,  until 
he  arrived  at  the  bed  of  a  dried-up  rivulet,  not  far  from 
which  were  several  black,  sooty  huts,  situated  between 
hills,  out  of  whose  chimneys  rose  a  thick,  black  smoke. 
He  entered  one  that  was  open,  and  the  peculiar  scent 
they  emitted  nearly  suffocated  him.    The  people  were  melt- 


THE   FUGITIVE   OP  THE  JURA. 


51 


ing  asphaltum,  which  they  had  dug  up  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. A  bed  of  marl  a  few  feet  below  the  earth  had  been 
blackened  and  entirely  saturated  by  that  mineral  oil,  the 
spring  of  which  is  still  unknown. 

In  a  dark  corner  of  the  hut  sat  Mother  Morne.  Florian 
did  not  observe  her  until  she  called  out  to  him,  "  Welcome, 
Fugitive,  to  La  Combe  !  "  Saying  this,  she  arose,  walked 
out  of  the  hut,  and  gave  him  a  sign  with  her  crutch  to 
attend  her.  He  obeyed  the  summons,  and  followed  her  as 
she  went  with  rapid  strides  along  the  stony  bed  of  the  tor- 
rent to  the  mountain  cliff.  When  on  the  way  to  it,  she 
asked  him,  "  Whither  are  you  going  ?  "  He  told  her  the 
good  reception  he  had  met  with  at  Standard's  house,  and  the 
motive  he  had  in  going  to  Neufch&tel. 

Suddenly  she  interrupted  him  by  asking,  "  Whom  hast 
thou  met  on  the  road  ?  " 

Florian  was  startled,  and  said,  "  I  was  just  going  to  ask 
that  of  you,  Mother  Morne." 

She  remained  standing  before  him,  and  repeated  her 
question.  He  answered,  "  I  saw  you  in  the  village  of 
Travers,  but  I  very  soon  lost  sight  of  you,  and  have  fol- 
lowed you  a  great  distance." 

"  Spare  the  maiden's  peace  !  "  retorted  the  Sybil. 

"  What  maiden,  Mother  Morne  1  "  inquired  Florian. 

"  She  whom  thou  sawest  for  the  first  time  in  a  large 
garden,  between  two  streams.  Thou  hast  found  her 
again,  and  it  is  on  her  account  that  thou  hast  followed  me 
hither." 

Florian's  astonishment  was  not  less  than  it  had  been  the 
day  before  on  the  Gros  Taureau.  There  seemed  to  be 
something  almost  supernatural  about  the  woman.  How 
could  she  know  the  secrets  of  his  heart  ?  especially  that 
secret  which  he  never  had  divulged  ?  He  told  her  of  his 
meeting  with  the  ladies  of  the  iron  chain,  and  of  his  con- 


52 


FLOKIAN  I 


versation  with  them  ;  and  requested  her  to  inform  him  who 
the  unknown  beauty  was  that  bore  the  name  of  Hermione, 
and  who  was  her  companion,  where  she  lived,  and  whither 
she  was  going  ? 

Mother  Morne  rubbed  her  brown,  withered  hand  across 
her  forehead,  and  said  with  a  gloomy  countenance — "  She 
will  tell  thee  herself  better  than  I  know.  But  spare  the 
maiden's  peace  !  Thou  comest  to  our  land  like  the  warm 
wind  from  the  south.  Let  no  one  trust  that  breeze  !  It 
fills  the  heavens  with  clouds  and  storms,  and  strikes  the 
earth  with  hail  and  lightning." 

"  How  !  Hermione  will  tell  me  herself?  " — exclaimed 
Florian — "  Shall  I  then  see  her  once  more  1  When  ? 
Where  ?  Tell  me,  Mother  Morne,  and  you  will  secure  my 
lasting  gratitude." 

"  No !  nothing  more,"  cried  the  old  woman.  "  There 
is  in  the  highest  heavens,  and  the  deepest  abyss,  none  who 
can  unveil  the  future,  excepting  the  evil  one,  since  thus  he 
cuts  up  the  roots  of  all  happiness  ;  faith,  love,  and  hope  ! 
What  doest  thou  want  of  me  ]  Who  has  told  thee  that  I 
am  gifted  with  the  spirit  of  vaticination  ?  " 

"  Do  not  be  angry,  mother,"  replied  the  fugitive.  "  You 
have  already  told  me  many  things  that  have  excited  my 
astonishment,  because  no  one  but  myself  could  be  advised 
of  it." 

"  Indeed  !  "  muttered  Mother  Morne  angrily  ;  "  what  I 
know,  I  know  from  yourself.  I  only  hear  with  sharper  ears, 
and  see  with  clearer  eyes." 

"  Have  you  then  no  answer  to  give  me,  to  my  innocent 
question,  where  Hermione  lives,  and  who  she  is  ?  " 

"  I  have  told  thee  already," — said  the  Sybil, — "  thou 
wilt  hear  it  from  herself." 

"  Indeed !  but  have  you  no  advice  to  give  me  ? "  asked 
Florian. 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA.  53 

"  Beware  !  "  was  her  reply. 

"  Of  whom  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  Of  thyself,"  announced  the  oracle. 

Florian  offered  her  a  few  pieces  of  money.  "  Take  this 
trifle,  Mother  Morne." — She  dashed  his  money  to  the 
ground,  turned  her  face,  walked  toward  the  ravine,  and  was 
soon  lost  among  the  bushes. 

"  The  old  woman  is  right,  Beware  of  thyself  !  "  he 
repeated  after  her,  as  he  slowly  walked  away.  "  She  has 
discovered  the  turbulent  excitement  of  this  breast,  and  the 
consuming  flame  of  my  fancy.  Am  I  not  on  the  high  road 
to  all  the  follies  of  passion  ? " — He  whistled  a  tune,  endea- 
voured earnestly  to  dissipate  his  thoughts  ;  seated  himself 
in  his  carriage,  and  arrived  late  in  the  night  at  Neuf- 
chatel. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
Developments. 

The  affair  which  drew  him  to  the  old  castle  on  the  height, 
and  to  the  Governor's  house,  to  obtain  a  secure  abode  in 
the  Prussian  territory,  was  soon  despatched ;  but  much 
longer  was  he  detained  by  the  sempstress,  the  shoemaker, 
and  the  tailor,  for  he  was  compelled  to  clothe  himself  from 
head  to  foot ;  and  having  soon  inspected  all  that  was 
worthy  of  being  seen,  his  time  passed  on  tardily  in  spite  of 
his  constant  wanderings  about  the  precincts  of  the  city, 
and  notwithstanding  the  charming  views  of  the  distant 
chain  of  the  Alps,  which  he  had  across  the  extensive 
neighbouring  lake. 

One  evening  he  sauntered  through  the  city,  to  the  spot 
where  the  streets  open  irregularly,  towards  the  borders  of 


5i 


FLORIAN : 


the  lake.  There  the  whole  scene  was  enlivened  by  fisher- 
men, labourers,  and  rustics,  preparing  to  return  across  the 
lake  to  their  respective  homes.  When  he  arrived  at  the  stone 
bridge  across  the  Seyon,  which  there  empties  into  the  lake, 
he  observed  a  man  in  black,  leaning  over  the  parapet  of  the 
bridge,  looking  intently  into  the  dry  bed  over  which  flow 
the  mountain  torrents.  It  was  a  figure  not  to  be  mistaken, 
for  Florian  immediately  recognised  the  Professor  Onyx. 

The  fugitive  rejoiced  at  seeing  his  philosophical  ac- 
quaintance, and  hastened  to  his  side  ;  but  he  addressed  him 
in  vain.  The  professor  did  not  allow  himself  to  be  dis- 
turbed in  his  meditations.  At  length  the  Grison  awoke 
him  out  of  his  revery,  by  striking  him  on  the  shoulder. 
The  professor  looked  at  him  with  amazement,  but  his  sur- 
prise instantly  became  unbounded  joy,  when  he  recognised 
the  intruder. 

"  Friend  of  my  soul !"  exclaimed  Onyx,  shaking  him 
heartily  by  the  hand,  and  eyeing  Florian's  dress  ;  "  you 
are  so  entirely  metamorphosed  that  I  scarcely  recognised 
you  in  this  neat  figure.  What  brings  you  to  Neufchatel  ? 
Are  you  going  to  leave  the  country  already  ?  Eh  !  did  I  not 
tell  you  that  you  would  not  be  able  to  endure  it  long,  among 
these  half  savages  ? " 

Florian  was  about  to  explain  the  motive  that  he  had  in 
visiting  that  town  ;  but  Mr.  Onyx  scarcely  paid  any  atten- 
tion to  him  ;  and  pointing  with  his  hand  across  the  balus- 
trade into  the  Seyon,  he  said  with  a  gesture  of  great  indig- 
nation, "  See  there,  my  friend,  the  evidence  of  the  un- 
pardonable negligence  and  helplessness  of  the  people  here. 
A  broad  river-bed,  walled  on  both  sides  with  hewn  stone, 
instead  of  having  water  in  it — the  world  will  never  believe 
it — it  is  filled  with  mud,  filth,  and  slime,  that  would  poison 
the  air  with  its  pestiferous  miasms,  had  not  the  wind  some 


THE   FUGITIVE  OP  THE  JURA. 


55 


compassion  on  these  ignorant  people.  Now,  sir,  you  must 
know  that  this  stream,  which  at  present  has  scarcely  enough 
of  water  in  it  to  wet  a  person's  feet,  overflows  at  other  times 
its  banks,  threatens  the  town  with  danger,  and  already  has 
done  incalculable  mischief.  It  would  be  real  child's  play 
to  manage  this  stream  so  as  to  yield  water  enough  all  the 
year  round,  to  work  factories  and  mills,  to  render  its  super- 
abundance of  water  harmless,  and  to  lead  it  off  in  channels 
for  the  fertilizing  of  the  soil.  The  tyrant  of  this  district 
having  been  made  its  slave,  would  then  bring  the  people  of 
Neufchatel  a  profit — I  have  calculated  it  to  a  sous — of 
several  hundred  thousand  livres  annually.  The  expenses 
of  the  construction  would  be  repaid  in  a  few  years." 

"  But,  as  far  as  I  know,"  said  Florian,  "  this  stream  is 
fed  by  rain  and  snow  from  the  mountains.  What  remedy 
can  you  prescribe  against  the  good  and  ill  humour  of  the 
heavens  1  " 

"  Friend  of  my  soul !  "  cried  Onyx,  "  we  must  not  en- 
deavour to  cure  the  heavens,  but  the  human  mind.  On  this 
side  of  Valangin,  where  the  stream  has  its  deep  and  narrow 
bed,  between  very  steep  rocks,  I  would  dam  it  up,  construct 
an  enormous  reservoir,  and  lead  the  swollen  water,  by 
means  of  canals,  to  the  right  and  left,  for  the  purpose  of 
watering  the  land,  and  working  mills  below  the  water-fall ; 
then  in  the  time  of  drought,  I  would  draw  the  water  out  of 
the  reservoir,  and — and,  I  have  all  the  plan  in  my  head,  and 
am  now  busily  engaged  in  laying  it  out  on  paper,  with  the 
necessary  calculations,  levellings,  ground  plans,  elevations, 
and  the  estimate  of  the  whole  cost." 

The  professor  became  so  excited,  that  he  immediately 
took  forth  his  tablets,  and  began  to  draw  with  his  lead- 
pencil.  He  spoke  with  so  much  zeal,  as  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  passers  by,  who  remained  standing  in  a 
circle  around  him.    Florian  persuaded  him  to  postpone  the 


56 


FLORIAN  : 


explanation  of  his  plan,  and  to  accompany  him  to  the  inn, 
where  they  would  take  their  supper. 

The  fugitive's  last  proposal  was  very  pleasing  to  Mr. 
Onyx.  As  they  passed  through  the  town,  under  the  stone 
arcades  that  run  along  the  houses,  Florian  asked  Mr.  Onyx 
what  had  induced  him  to  come  to  Neufchatel. 

"  I  have  some  important  plans  to  communicate  to  the 
government,"  replied  the  professor,  "which  makes  an 
oral  explanation  indispensable.  I  think  the  matter  will  be 
taken  into  consideration  ;  and  if  it  is,  my  fortune  is  made. 
I  shall  then  marry,  and  establish  myself  here.  I  am  in 
love  !  You  scarcely  would  believe  this  of  a  man  who  is 
engaged  in  so  many,  and  such  grave  pursuits  as  I  am  ; 
but  I  love  the  most  charming  being  on  earth.  I  tell  you  her 
name  in  confidence,  Mademoiselle  Delory.  I  am  not 
entirely  destitute,  but  the  young  lady  is  of  a  good  family 
and  accustomed  to  certain  conveniences  of  life  ;  hence  my 
income  must  be  increased.  I  should  be  rich  enough  to 
satisfy  my  own  few  wants,  but  what  will  not  a  person  do 
for  a  beloved  wife  !  " 

"I  congratulate  you,  professor!"  said  Florian. 

"  Yes,  truly,"  Onyx  answered  ;  "  what  other  motive  could 
I  have  to  make  this  town  my  future  place  of  residence  ? 
Do  you  think  these  vaulted  walks  could  induce  me,  or  this 
abortion  of  Burgundian  architecture,  against  which  I  have 
so  vehemently  and  vainly  declaimed,  both  here  and  in 
Berne.  If  such  arcades  were  spacious,  broad,  and  high- 
vaulted,  their  imposing  grandeur  would  at  least  reconcile 
one  to  the  many  disadvantages  now  attached  to  them.  But 
they  being  narrow,  low,  and  something  like  sewers 
erected  above  the  ground,  persons,  when  they  meet,  pass 
each  other  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  and  cannot  forbear 
suffering  amid  all  that  disagreeable  odour  which  changes  its 
flavour  at  every  house.  They  make  their  halls  and  rooms 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


57 


on  the  ground-floor,  damp  and  gloomy.  The  rooms  hang, 
ing  over  the  arcades  are  cold,  and  afflict  the  pedestrian  by 
the  alternate  and  continual  changes  of  cold  and  warm  air, 
with  sudden  chills,  toothache,  sore-throats,  rheumatism, 
coughs,  and  all  the  other  evils  attendant  on  colds.  By  my 
troth,  I  am  greatly  alarmed  about  the  delicate  health  of 
Mademoiselle  Delory.  But  what  am  I  to  do  ?  She  is  ac- 
customed to  live  in  large  cities,  and  I  cannot  blame  her  for 
it.  Were  I  to  take  her  to  the  Siberian  climate  of  La  C6te- 
aux-Fees  or  Les  Bayards,  she  would  perish  in  the  first  win- 
ter, like  a  pine-apple  in  an  open  garden-bed." 

"  How,"  said  Fiorian,  "  does  your  bride  live  on  La  Cote- 
aux-Fees,  or  at  Les  Bayards  ?" 

"Only  in  the  summer  months,"  rejoined  the  philoso- 
pher, "  like  an  exotic  flower.  In  winter  it  would  be  im- 
possible. Only  conceive  an  elevation  from  three  to  four 
thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  ocean,  with  the  atmos- 
phere from  twenty  to  thirty  degrees  below  zero.  She 
would  not  survive  one  single  winter.  I  have,  however, 
promised  her,  in  mere  jest,  to  plant  the  whole  mountains 
with  odoriferous  hermiones,  despite  the  polar  climate." 

At  these  words,  the  friends  entered  Florian's  room. 
The  name  of  Hermione  had  fettered  all  the  Grison's 
thoughts.  He  heard  nothing  more  of  the  Professor's  ob- 
servations,  who  was  now  comfortably  fixed  on  the  sofa,  and 
descanting  most  zealously  on  the  means  of  meliorating  the 
condition  of  the  climate. 

"  Professor,  you  mentioned  the  name  of  Hermione,  just 
now,"  said  Fiorian  ;  "  you  would  fill  the  whole  mountains 
with  Hermiones  ? " 

"Do  not  misunderstand  me,  friend  of  my  soul,"  replied 
Professor  Onyx,  with  a  roguish  chuckle,  "  it  was  not 
meant  exactly  so,  badly  as  it  sounds.    I  have  been  these 
three  years  engaged  in  compiling  a  Burgundian  Flora.  It 
4 


66 


FLORIAN  ; 


will  be  a  precious  work.  In  this  remote  corner  of  the 
earth  there  are  some  rare  specimens  of  herbs,  unknown  as 
yet  ttf  any  botanist.  I  have  already  discovered  and  deline- 
ated seventeen  new  species.  Among  them  is  a  plantain  of 
pyramidal  growth,  a  lovely,  delicate  plant,  which  bears  a 
pale  red  blossom,  the  species  of  which,  I  think,  has  never 
been  described  in  any  essay  on  botany.  This  flower,  I 
have  called  hermione,  in  honour  of  Mademoiselle  Delory." 

"  Hold  !  "  suddenly  interrupted  Florian.  "  Is  this  Her- 
mione, Mademoiselle  Delory,  one  and  the  same  person  1 
Does  she  now  dwell  on  La  Cote-aux-Fees  ?  and  is  she 
there  on  a  visit  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,"  answered  Onyx  ;  "  properly  speaking, 
she  is  a  native  of  Lyons,  but  for  several  years  she  has 
lived  near  Besancon,  at  a  place  belonging  to  her  step- 
father, with  whom  I  have  no  acquaintance.  For  these  two 
years  past,  she  has  spent  the  beautiful  season  on  La  Cote 
aux-Fees,  and  thus  it  is  but  right  that  my  plant  should  bear 
her  name.  The  hermione  is  certainly  a  native  of  these 
mountain  crags." 

"  I  think  I  know  her,"  said  the  Fugitive  ;  "  I  found  her 
accidentally  by  the  iron  chain,  between  the  rocks,  above 
St.  Sulpice." 

"  Right  I  right !  it  may  be  found  there  too,  but  rarely," 
retorted  the  florist. 

"  Of  slender  growth,  like  the  lily  ?  "—asked  Florian. 

"  Wrong  !  it  always  creeps  on  the  ground,"  answered 
Onyx,  "  I  have  never  seen  it  upright." 

"  You  jest,  professor,"  rejoined  the  Grison. 

"No  I  do  not;  lam  serious,"  returned  the  professor; 
"  always  on  the  ground,  with  small  leaves,  dentated  at  the 
edge." 

"  I  am  talking  of  Mademoiselle  Delory,"  said  Florian. 
"And  I,  of  my  hermione,"  replied  Onyx.    "You  can 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA.  59 

easily  understand,  that  I  call  the  lady  mine  only  when 
she  is  my  wife.  But  if  you  wish  it,  I  will  bring  you  im- 
mediately a  dried  specimen  of  my  floweret,  the  hermione." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Florian,  "  could  you  but  show  me  a  speci- 
men of  the  lady  instead — I  mean  a  portrait^that  I  might 
be  convinced  we  both  mean  the  same  person." 

"  I  can  do  that  too,  sir,"  answered  On^x  ;  "  but  without 
sacrilege,  I  could  not  bring  it  to  you  here.  It  is  too  late 
to  climb  up  the  old  cathedral  to-day,  but  to-morrow  you 
shall  see  a  statue  of  one  of  the  young  countesses  of  Neuf- 
chatel.  You  would  swear  that  it  is  the  precise  counterpart 
of  Mademoiselle  Delory.  I  believe  it  is  the  beautiful  Isa- 
bel, daughter  of  Count  Louis,  the  last  lord  of  the  ancient 
house  of  Xeufchatel,  who  three  or  four  hundred  years  ago 
was  buried  in  this  cathedral  with  helmet  and  buckler." 

"We  will  go  to-morrow,  my  dear  professor,"  rejoined 
Florian.  "  I  envy  you,  if  that  Hermione  whom  I  have 
seen  is  your  love.  But  I  am  almost  inclined  to  doubt  it. 
I  would  describe  her  to  you  ;  but  where  shall  I  find  words 
to  give  an  adequate  idea  of  that  lovely  form,  of  those  grace- 
ful motions,  of  that  dignified,  yet  sweet  eye  ?  Every  one 
of  those  light-brown  ringlets,  that  play  about  her  snow- 
white  neck,  bears  in  it  a  peculiar  charm." 

"  Right,  sir  !  you  have  hit  her  every  feature,"  exclaimed 
Onyx. 

"And  are  you  sure,  my  dear  professor,"  inquired  the 
Fugitive,  "  of  being  the  object  of  this  earthly  angel's  af- 
fection ?  " 

"  Most  certainly,"  Onyx  affirmed,  "  for  Hermione  cannot 
hate  any  person,  and  why  should  she  hate  me  ?  I  carry 
her  plants  ;  I  choose  books  for  her  to  read — I — she  loves 
me  ;  that  is  a  settled  matter." 

"  Has  she  confessed  her  love  for  you  1 "  asked  Florian, 
"  and  is  she  resolved  to  become  your  wife  ? " 


60 


FLORIAN  : 


"  Sir,  that  is  a  ticklish  point,"  declared  the  philosopher ; 
u  I  have  not  heard  her  speak  of  that.  I  have  never  dared 
to  mention  the  subject  to  her.  I  do  not  know  how  to  be- 
gin it.  You  know  how  young  ladies  think  about  such 
matters.  I  postpone  that  part  of  the  affair  until  all  the 
preparations  are  made.  Then  the  declaration,  the  propo- 
sal, the  betrothment,  and  the  wedding  shall  follow  in 
quick  succession.  It  is  impossible  for  her  to  refuse  me 
any  thing.    I  know  her  too  well." 

Florian  could  not  refrain  from  smiling  at  the  professor's 
good-nature  and  simplicity.  "But  how,  professor,  if  in 
the  end,"  asked  the  Grison,  "  she  should  refuse  to  accept 
your  hand?  " 

"  Why,  that  would  be  amazing,"  cried  Onyx.  "  That 
is  impossible  !  She  knows  how  dear  she  is  to  me,  and — 
no  !  friend  of  my  soul — I  tell  you  it  is  impossible.  She  al- 
ways calls  me  her  dear  professor,  and  you  perceive,  my 
friend,  that  young  ladies  are  not  very  liberal  with  such  ten- 
der expressions  towards  unmarried  young  men.  Hermi- 
one  also  takes  my  part  very  warmly,  when  Claudine  be- 
gins to  war  against  me,  and  that  in  itself  is  of  some  sig- 
nificance." 

"  Who  is  Claudine  ?  "  inquired  Florian. 

"  Oh,  she  is  a  wild,  flighty,  whimsical,  pert,  snappish, 
saucy  little  minx,"  was  the  professor's  portraiture. 

"  With  black,  glittering  eyes ;  and  young  Standard's 
bride  ?  "  asked  the  fugitive. 

"  Quite  right — the  same,"  was  the  reply  of  Onyx. 
"  Poor  George,  it  will  not  be  long  before  he  has  a  con- 
sumption, when  once  he  is  married  ;  for  young  teazers 
become  old  quarrelers.  Whenever  she  sees  me,  she 
plays  me  a  thousand  tricks.  True,  she  is  pretty,  but  I  am 
really  afraid  of  the  mischievous  little  minx.  It  is  to  me 
astonishing,  how  those  two  young  ladies   can  remain 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


(51 


friends,  and  live  under  the  same  roof  together.  But 
Madam  Bell,  Claudine's  mother  and  the  aunt  of  Hermi- 
one,  is  a  sensible  woman.  She  understands  how  to  keep 
order  in  her  house." 

Florian  detained  the  talkative  Onyx  until  midnight,  for 
he  liked  just  as  much  to  hear  the  family  of  La  Cote-aux- 
Fees  spoken  of,  as  the  professor  was  willing  to  depict 
them. 

CHATTER  X. 

The  Statues. 

On  the  following  morning,  when  both  the  fugitive  and  the 
professor  were  about  to  sally  forth  from  the  inn,  and  to 
climb  up  the  steep  street,  at  the  top  of  which,  close  to  the 
old  castle,  the  cathedral  lifts  its  gray,  majestic  walls,  that 
have  defied  the  storms  and  the  decay  of  time  for  seven 
hundred  years,  a  sergeant,  sent  by  the  governor,  came  to 
meet  them.  "  My  friend,"  called  out  the  professor,  who 
already  knew  him,  "  do  you  come  to  see  me  ?  Has  the 
governor  sent  for  me  ?  Has  he  read  my  statement  1 
Have  you  any  notion  of  what  he  thinks  of  it  ?  Has  he  not 
dropped  a  word  about  my  plans  ?  Only  deliver  your  mes- 
sage to  the  letter  ;  tell  me  what  the  expression  of  his 
countenance  was,  when  he  read,  and  I  will  tell  you  what 
the  governor  purposes  doing." 

This  time,  however,  Professor  Onyx  was  mistaken. 
The  sergeant  inquired  for  a  Mr.  Florian,  with  an  order  to 
present  himself,  without  fail,  in  less  than  an  hour,  at  the 
governor's  house.  Onyx,  whom  a  glimpse  of  hope  had  ex- 
panded and  exalted,  collapsed  again,  just  as  suddenly  ;  and 
the  round,  serene  features  of  his  countenance  assumed 


62  FLORIAN  : 

• 

their  angular,  cool,  and  natural  uniformity.  Florian  pro- 
mised to  obey  the  summons. 

While  on  their  way,  the  professor  called  for  the  sacristan 
of  the  church,  who,  with  kind  readiness,  ran  up  the  stone 
steps,  unlocked  the  door  of  the  antique  temple,  and  permit- 
ted the  strangers  to  enter.  He  conducted  them  to  the  sep- 
ulchre of  Louis,  count  of  Neufchatel,  a  group  composed  of 
nine  male  and  four  female  statues,  large  as  life,  all  in  the 
costume  of  the  fourteenth  century,  standing  together  in  the 
attitude  of  prayer.  Although  Time  in  several  places  had 
not  spared  the  noble  features  of  those  majestic  forms,  there 
was  nevertheless  a  family  likeness  perceptible  in  all  of 
them.  Each  of  them  bore  that  dignity  and  grace  which 
acts  like  an  invisible  charm  upon  the  heart,  and  fills  it  with 
love  and  respect. 

"  See  there,  see  there  !  friend  of  my  soul !"  cried  Profes- 
sor Onyx,  eagerly,  pointing  with  his  finger  to  one  of  the 
countesses  whose  youthful  figure  he  thought  resembled  that 
of  Hermione.    "  Am  I  not  right  ?" 

"  Perfectly,"  said  Florian,  with  a  smile,  "  if  one  would 
call  a  little  optical  illusion  to  his  assistance." 

The  deathlike  stillness  that  reigned  throughout  this  spa- 
cious edifice,  and  the  faint  rays  which  fell  through  the  long 
pointed  windows,  and  gave  to  every  object  a  more  solemn 
appearance,  with  the  stream  of  light  which  poured  in  through 
the  open  door  and  illuminated  the  statues,  filled  Florian's 
heart  with  a  feeling  of  awe.  His  imagination  breathed 
life  into  those  grave-stone  figures  of  antiquity.  The  pale 
cheeks  of  the  statues  seemed  to  receive  a  living  hue,  and 
the  bosom  of  the  countess  appeared  to  rise  and  fall  with 
gentle  breathings.  He  saw  among  the  shades  of  the  others, 
her  who  was  said  to  bear  a  resemblance  to  Hermione  grow- 
ing more  light,  until  he  imagined  Hermione 's  figure  itself 
standing  among  the  group,  and  in  the  deception  which  his 


THE   FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA.  63 

own  imagination  practised  on  him,  all  the  others  soon  van- 
ished from  his  sight. 

While  Florian  was  thus  lost  to  every  object  around  him, 
the  sacristan  lifted  a  glove  from  the  pedestal  of  the  coun- 
tess. Having  examined  it  attentively,  he  said,  shaking  his 
head,  "  Yes,  the  two  young  ladies  of  last  Tuesday ;  they 
were  the  last.  It  belongs  to  one  of  them,  and  she  has  for- 
gotten it.  I  should  like  to  know  whether  they  are  still  in 
the  town."  • 

Florian  looked  at  the  glove,  listened,  and  remembered 
immediately  the  ladies  whom  he  had  met  on  his  way  to 
Neufchatel.  He  described  them  with  such  precision  that 
the  sacristan  gave  him  the  glove,  and  said,  "They  must  be 
the  same.  The  taller  of  the  two,  with  the  brown  hair,  took 
off  her  glove  here,  and  I  saw  her  as  she  placed  it  on  the 
pedestal ;  but  I  forgot  to  remind  her  of  it,  and  so  it  was  left 
here.  If  you  are  acquainted  with  her,  I  request  you  to  re- 
turn it." 

Florian  did  not  refuse.  An  agreeable  sensation  ran 
through  him  when  his  finger  touched  the  glove  that  had 
perhaps  enclosed  Hermione's  beautiful  hand.  He  folded  up 
the  treasure,  and  concealed  it.  The  professor  returned  from 
another  part  of  the  church,  whither  he  had  gone  to  calcu- 
late the  proportions  of  the  length,  width,  and  height  of  the 
edifice. 

"  Every  time  I  look  upon  an  old  church  I  am  vexed," 
exclaimed  Onyx  ;  "it  is  ever  the  body  of  a  giant  with  the 
head  of  a  child ;  always  a  tortoise,  out  of  which  peeps  a 
small,  wee-bit  of  a  head.  It  is  very  evident  that,  at  the 
commencement  of  the  edifice,  when  the  devotion  was  great 
and  money  was  in  abundance,  enormous  foundations  were 
laid,  from  which  one  might  have  imagined  they  should  re- 
ceive a  superstructure  whose  spires  were  designed  to  reach 
to  the  heavens.    Afterward  the  devotions  became  chill,  the 


64  floria^  : 

• 

purses  were  empty,  and  they  added  a  steeple  like  a  sentry- 
box,  or  like  a  fence-rail.  The  minsters  of  Strasburg  and 
Freyburg  have  an  appearance  of  grandeur.  The  spire  in 
Berne  is  too  short  by  at  least  one  half;  but  this  at  Neuf- 
chatel  is  like  a  hump  on  the  back  of  a  dromedary." 

After  the  professor  had  exhausted  his  instructive  disserta- 
tion on  the  architecture  tf  the  ancients,  and  had  compared 
them  to  poets  who,  in  the  end,  sometimes  lose  their  breath 
and  inspiration  ;  and  then  again  to  children  who,  after  hav- 
ing built  a  house  of  cards,  are  fearful  of  placing  the  last  on 
the  top,  lest  the  whole  should  tumble  together — Florian  ob- 
served, that  it  was  time  for  him  to  obey  his  summons,  and 
present  himself  at  the  governor's  house.  The  professor 
premised  to  await  his  return  ;  and  in  the  meantime  to  give 
the  sacristan  a  minute  exposition,  how  buildings  might  be 
most  advantageously  planned  and  erected,  and  at  the  same 
time  have  all  the  architectural  proportions  in  every  part. 

Florian  walked  to  the  castle,  and  across  the  vacant,  spa- 
cious outer  yard,  into  the  old  citadel,  over  the  principal  en- 
trance of  which  was  displayed,  in  enormous  size,  the  prince- 
ly heraldic  symbol  of  Neufchatel,  and  also  the  stiff  eagle  of 
Prussia,  strangely  ornamented  with  a  crown  on  his  head,  a 
sceptre  in  one  claw,  and  an  apple  in  the  other.  The  ser- 
geant who  had  brought  him  the  summons,  met  him  imme- 
diately on  his  entrance,  and  conducted  him  into  a  large  an- 
tique room.  An  elderly  gentleman,  with  snow-white,  pow- 
dered hair,  speedily  made  his  appearance.  He  scarcely 
returned  the  bow  of  the  ypung  Grison ;  but  drew  forth  a 
snuff-box,  and  leisurely  took  an  enormous  pinch,  while  he 
surveyed  Florian  from  head  to  foot. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  to  inform  you,  that 
your  stay  in  this  principality  must  not  be  of  long  duration.  A 
writ  for  your  apprehension,  accompanied  with  a  description 
of  yourself,  and  for  the  delivery  of  your  person,  sent  by  the 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


65 


adjoining  French  department,  has  come  to  my  hands.  Not 
far  from  Pontarlier  you  greatly  abused,  and  endangered  the 
lives  of  two  French  soldiers.  Besides,  you  are  accused  of 
being  one  of  those  who  instigated  the  peasants  in  the  Gri- 
sons  to  rebellion,  and  who  caused  the  massacre  of  the 
French  troops  at  Disentis." 

Florian  was  preparing  to  justify  himself,  but  the  old  gen- 
tleman said,  "  It  is  all  the  same,"  taking  again  a  pinch  of 
snuff ;  "  it  is  not  our  office  to  inquire  into  that  affair,  but  to 
tell  you  how  matters  stand  with  you.  Prussia  and  France 
are  on  terms  of  amity,  to  which  circumstance  this  principal- 
ity is  indebted  for  her  peace.  While  Switzerland  is  over- 
flowing with  French  troops,  we  dare  not  offer  the  French 
government  the  slightest  occasion  or  pretext  for  well-found- 
ed complaints.  We  have  strict  instructions  from  Berlin  to 
that  effect.  Therefore  get  yourself  ready,  and  depart  im- 
mediately. I  give  you  this  friendly  warning.  If  within  an 
hour  you  are  still  found  here,  you  will  be  arrested.  There- 
fore— "  The  old  gentleman  then  made  a  motion  with  his 
hand,  and  a  slight  bow,  which  plainly  signified  that  the 
young  Grison  might  withdraw. 

"  I  acknowledge  your  excellency's  kindness,"  said  Flo- 
rian ;  "  but  where  can  I  go,  when  in  your  canton  I  cannot 
be  protected  against  French  tyranny  1 " 

"  That  I  cannot  help,"  replied  the  gentleman,  and  turned 
to  leave  the  room ;  "  you  know  what  you  have  to  depend 
upon." 

"To  be  either  imprisoned  for  life  or  guillotined,"  ex- 
claimed the  fugitive.  "  That  I  know.  To  France  I  can- 
not go,  and  still  less  into  the  Cantons  of  Berne  and  Solo- 
thurne,  where  every  place  is  swarming  with  French  troops. 
How  can  I  escape  to  Germany,  when  the  whole  country 
round  is  beset  with  French  power  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  help  that ;  you  know  what  you  have  to  depend 
4* 


66 


FLORIAN  : 


upon,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  looking  back  as  he  was 
leaving  the  room. 

"Then  it  would  be  better,"  rejoined  the  Grison,  "if  I 
were  to  be  imprisoned  immediately.  Why  should  I,  a  fu- 
gitive, drag  myself  fruitlessly  away  to  prolong  my  life  for  a 
few  miserable  days  ?    I  do  not  fear  death." 

"  I  cannot  help  that,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  opening  a 
side  door  ;  "  you  know  what  you  have  to  depend  upon." 

Saying  this,  he  vanished,  leaving  the  fugitive  to  himself. 
Florian  stared  around  him,  undecided  what  to  do,  and  then 
walked  rapidly  out  of  the  citadel,  towards  the  place  before 
the  church.  The  professor  and  sacristan  both  had  depart- 
ed. Florian,  who  was  occupied  by  matters  of  more  mo- 
ment, abruptly  turned  with  a  firm  step  back  to  the  town, 
purchased  a  sabre,  a  pair  of  pistols,  powder,  bullets,  and 
bullet-mould,  paid  his  host,  hired  a  carriage  to  Locle  and 
Brevine,  packed  up  his  effects,  and  left  Neufchatel  without 
delay. 


CHAPTER  XI. 
The  Return. 

Florian  firmly  resolved  not  to  leave  the  mountains  of 
Neufchatel,  being  convinced  that  he  could  no  where  be  so 
secure  as  in  those  remote  solitudes  of  the  Highlands,  where 
almost  any  of  the  numerous  huts  scattered  about  the  mount- 
ains, offered  a  various  temporary  refuge  from  pursuit. 
Moreover,  if  he  should  be  surprised,  he  could  depend  as 
much  on  the  kindness  of  the  inhabitants,  as  on  his  sword 
and  pistols.  When  he  was  near  to  Genevegs,  where  the 
road  begins  to  rise,  as  he  was  walking  by  the  side  of  his 


THE   FUGITIVE   OP  THE  JURA. 


67 


vehicle,  he  would  throw  citrons  in  the  air,  and  fire  at  them. 
He  never  missed  his  mark. 

The  thought  of  Stafford's  beautiful  neighbour  fettered 
him  with  still  greater  chains  to  La  Cote-aux-Fees,  than  the 
belief  of  his  own  safety.  Although  he  could  scarcely  select 
a  spot  nearer  to  the  frontiers  of  his  enemies,  from  whom  he 
was  flying,  than  just  this  district  ;  yet  the  danger  itself 
had  a  great  share  in  making  the  place  more  beautiful  and 
attractive,  as  lightning  in  a  storm  enhances  the  brilliancy 
of  a  landscape.  He  remained  not  an  hour  in  busy  Locle, 
that  he  might  avoid  a  meeting  with  a  French  spy  ;  but  he 
traversed  with  celerity  the  wide,  green,  treeless  valley,  full 
of  its  city-like  buildings,  and  then  continued  his  route 
through  the  silent  pastures,  and  the  desolate  turf-bottoms  of 
Chaux-du-milier,  and  Chaux-du-Cachot,  towards  the  wide  ele- 
vated valley  Brevine ;  where,  in  the  distant  back  ground,  both 
sides  of  the  uniform  long  chains  of  hills  appeared  to  meet. 

In  the  village  La  Brienne,  he  discharged  his  carriage, 
and  hired  a  man  to  carry  his  portmanteau  across  Les  Bay- 
ards, to  La  Cote-aux-Fees.  The  bar-room  was  full  of 
men,  who,  seated  beside  long  tables,  were  drinking  their 
wine,  and  engaged  in  lively  conversation.  There  seemed 
to  be  several  strangers  among  them,  who  in  the  summer- 
time visit  that  neighbourhood,  that  by  the  pure  air  of  the 
highlands,  or  by  using  the  neighbouring  mineral  springs, 
they  may  strengthen  their  shattered  health.  The  loud 
sounding  names,  Moreau,  Suvaroff,  Massena,  Zurich, 
Bonaparte,  Naples,  and  St.  Jean  d'Acre,  indicated  what 
subjects  were  discussed  by  them.  He  turned  away  with  a 
contracted  brow,  and  instead  of  going  into  the  room,  he 
walked  to  the  right,  into  the  neighbouring  church-yard, 
leaned  over  the  low  wall,  and  cast  his  eyes  over  the  green 
carpet  spreading  towards  the  mountains  and  up  to  heaven. 

"  Is  there  on  this  globe  neither  sanctuary,  nor  solitude  " — 


68 


floriak  : 


he  murmured — "  that  is  not  polluted  by  the  mention  of  names 
to  which  are  attached  the  remembrances  of  all  the  worst 
human  passions,  and  all  the  misery  that  now  torments  the 
world  !  Is  it  not  committing  a  crime  against  the  majesty 
and  innocence  of  nature,  to  disturb  the  tranquillity  and  so- 
lemnity of  these  barren  and  peaceful  mountains,  with  con- 
versations, at  the  subjects  of  which  the  better  heart  of  man 
will  revolt  in  after  centuries  ?  " 

"  So  it  is  you,  nevertheless !  "  exclaimed  the  voice  of 
George  Staffard ;  and  Florian  felt  an  arm  encircling  his 
waist.  George,  who  was  seated  among  the  guests  of  the 
inn,  thought  he  recognised  his  friend  through  the  window  ; 
but  being  not  quite  certain,  on  account  of  the  neatness  of 
his  attire,  he  had  followed  the  fugitive.  Both  the  friends 
experienced  heartfelt  delight,  at  seeing  each  other. 

"I  feel  greatly  rejoiced  at  your  return,"  exclaimed 
George — "we  shall  not  part  again." 

"  Like  an  angel  you  appear  to  me  amid  these  graves," 
said  Florian.  "  I  will  stay  with  you  as  long  as  I  may  ;  but 
I  am  still  a  fugitive  and  an  outlaw  upon  these  grounds. 
The  government  of  Neufchatel  fears  to  yield  me  its  protection. 
I  consequently  shall  wander  about,  a  mark  for  any  one  to 
level  his  shaft  upon,  and  must  rely  upon  the  swiftness  of  my 
feet  and  the  strength  of  my  arm  alone,  if  I  would  avoid  fall- 
ing into  the  clutches  of  the  hangman  and  his  accomplices. 
My  person  has  been  demanded  of  the  authorities  of  Neufcha- 
tel, as  my  having  taken  flight  and  found  refuge  here  is  no 
longer  a  secret." 

"  You  are  as  secure  on  La  C6te-aux-F  es,  as  if  you  were 
sitting  in  the  moon,"  replied  the  Swiss.  "  We  have  already- 
proclaimed  you  to  our  neighbours,  as  a  relative  come  from 
Germany,  to  pay  us  a  visit.  They  are  satisfied  with  that  ac- 
count :  but  there  are  two  women  who  would  not  swallow 
the  fiction.    One  of  them  is  an  old,  half-crazy,  eccentric, 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


69 


unruly  creature,  whom  we  call  Mother  Morne,  a  woman  as 
ugly  as  sin.  She  shook  her  head  when  we  spoke  of  you, 
and  said — "  Your  shift  is  very  well  :  stick  to  it.  There  are 
already  people  in  the  land  who  are  upon  his  track  ;  but  he 
must  not  be  found." 

"  I  know  that  old  woman,"  said  Florian  ;  and  he  told 
George  how  he  had  become  acquainted  with  her. 

"  She  is  found  every  where  ;  but  being  of  a  kind  disposi- 
tion, she  is  never  disturbed,"  was  George's  reply.  "  She 
is  continually  roving  about ;  hears  much,  sees  much,  and 
consequently  knows  much  ;  and  she  sincerely  believes  that 
it  is  through  the  whisperings  of  supernatural  beings,  by  di- 
vine revelation.  I  think  her  brain  received  a  shock  from 
fanaticism.  She  looks  upon  herself  as  a  being  of  a  superior 
kind,  and  as  one  who  holds  immediate  communion  with 
God  and  the  invisible  spirits.  But  it  appears  that  you  must 
also  know  the  other,  who  shakes  her  head  at  our  invention. 
She  is  a  cousin  of  my  Claudine,  a  Mademoiselle  Delory. 
You  saw  her  and  Claudine  at  the  chain." 

Florian  related  his  adventure  with  the  girls.  "  But  why," 
he  asked,  "  would  she  not  credit  what  you  and  your  father 
said  in  regard  to  myself?" 

"  I  really  cannot  tell,"  answered  his  friend  ;  "  after  we 
had  been  speaking  of  you,  she  took  me  a  little  aside,  looked 
at  me  with  her  piercing  eye,  and  asked,  *  George,'  for  she 
always  calls  me  George,  and  I  address  her  as  Hermione  : 
1  George,  why  will  you,  or  why  must  you  throw  a  mystery 
about  this  stranger  ?  He  is  not  from  Germany,  and  I  much 
doubt  whether  he  is  related  to  you.'  I  of  course  was 
somewhat  startled  at  the  question.  If  you  cannot  believe 
me,  replied  I,  I  would  at  least  request  of  you  to  act  as  if  you 
did.  You  know,  Hermione,  that  in  these  days  some  vir- 
tues must  take  to  flight,  like  light  shunning  sin :  while 
there  are  personified  crimes,  which  strut  about  as  if  they 


70 


FLORIAX : 


were  triumphant  virtues.  Hermione  looked  me,  at  these 
words,  solemnly  in  the  face,  mused  a  little  while,  then  nod- 
ded, as  if  assenting  to  what  I  said ;  and  asked  not  any  fur- 
ther questions." 

Florian's  heart  swelled  with  delight,  on  hearing  this  state- 
ment. It  appeared  to  him  as  if  he  were  of  greater  import- 
ance to  the  world,  since  Hermione  deemed  it  worth  her 
while  to  sacrifice  even  but  one  thought  in  regard  to  his  fate. 
The  certainty  of  again  finding  her  on  La  Cdte-aux-Fees, 
who  had  so  long  dwelt  in  his  memory,  increased  his  anxie- 
ty and  impatience  to  reach  Staffard's  house. 

The  young  men  proceeded  towards  the  huts  of  Bremont, 
and  passed  the  singular  mountain-lake  of  Etaliers,  the  wa- 
ters of  which  eventually  fall  into  subterraneous  outlets  and 
then  vanish.  But  as  they  climbed  the  rocky  mountain-path 
to  Les  Bayards,  they  were  met  by  five  armed  pedestrians, 
who,  by  their  uniform,  belonged  to  the  French  army.  They 
inquired  the  way,  and  Florian  thought  they  eyed  him  rather 
keenly.  He  would  have  been  inclined  to  consider  this 
opinion  merely  a  vain  suspicion,  had  not  one  of  them,  as 
they  were  proceeding  on  their  way,  said,  in  a  rather  loud 
tone  of  voice,  "  it  is  certainly  he  !" 

Amid  friendly  conversation,  the  friends  reached  the  deso- 
late elevation,  whence  the  view  opened  on  the  huts  of  Les 
Bayards,  scattered  about  between  pastures,  clumps  of  fir, 
and  rugged  rocks  ;  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley  of 
Les  Verrieres,  appeared  as  a  dark  wood,  the  mountain-side 
of  La  C6te-aux-Fees.  The  afternoon  had  been  very  sultry, 
and  George  felt  fatigued.  The  friends  sat  down  on  a  rock 
to  enjoy  rest  for  a  few  minutes,  whilst  the  carrier  of  Florian's 
portmanteau  walked  rapidly  on,  to  announce  their  speedy 
arrival  to  George's  father. 

"  By  my  troth,"  exclaimed  George,  "I  believe  those  are 
the  same  blue  coats  who  met  us  on  the  mountain,  and 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


71 


inquired  their  way !  What  do  they  mean  by  coming 
back  ?" 

"I  think  we  shall  soon  learn,"  said  Florian. 

In  fact,  the  same  men,  who  a  little  while  before  had  de- 
scended the  mountains,  were  now  ascending  it.  They  ap- 
proached the  wanderers  with  firm  steps,  and  remained  stand- 
ing before  them. 

"  Gentlemen,  pardon  the  abruptness  of  my  question,  but 
whither  are  you  going  ?  "  said  he  of  the  blues,  who  appeared 
to  be  the  principal. 

"  To  Les  Bayards,  down  the  mountain,"  replied  Florian. 

"  Then  we  shall  have  the  honour  to  accompany  you.  I 
would  also  request  of  you  to  conduct  us  to  the  nearest  castel- 
lan or  major,  in  case  you  should  not  think  fit  to  show  us 
your  passports,  and  other  papers  freely,  for  you  are  not  of 
this  country." 

"  Who  tells  you  so  ?"  cried  George  abruptly,  anticipating 
danger  to  his  friend. 

"  This  brown  wart,  close  to  that  gentleman's  left  ear," 
said  the  blue  coat,  pointing  with  his  finger  to  a  small  mole 
on  Florian's  cheek. 

"  And  what  else  ?  "  asked  Florian  calmly. 

"You  have  escaped  from  your  guards,  and  are  the 
murderer  of  this  soldier's  comrade,"  replied  he  in  blue, 
pointing  to  one  of  his  men ;  whom  Florian  actually  recog- 
nised as  one  of  the  guards  that  he  had  left  at  Pontarlier. 

"  The  gentleman  will  not  deny  it,"  said  the  soldier  ;  taking 
off  his  hat,  and  showing  a  black  patch  on  his  forehead. 

"And  if  I  should  not  deny  it,  what  then  ?"  said  Florian. 

"  In  that  case  you  will  go  with  us  to  the  next  castellan," 
observed  the  leader,  "for  we  shall  not  leave  you  again." 

"  Thunder,"  roared  George,  jumping  up.  "  Do  you 
know,  gentlemen,  that  you  are  not  on  French  ground,  but 
in  the  canton  of  Neufchatel.    You  are  foreigners,  and  you 


72 


FLORIAN  : 


would  not  be  dealt  ligntiy  with,  were  you  to  disturb  the 
safety  of  the  high  road." 

"  Sir,  be  silent,"  replied  the  leader  of  the  blues,  throwing 
a  fiery  and  commanding  look  at  young  Staffard.  "  Our 
business  is  with  this  murderer.  The  government  of  this 
country  consents  to  his  being  given  up." 

"  I  would  sooner  suffer  you  to  break  my  arms  and  legs, 
than  endure  violence  in  this  open,  high  road,"  thundered 
George,  springing  to  one  side,  and  taking  a  club  from  off 
the  ground.  "  Pack  off,  ye  villains,  off,  and  down  the 
mountains  with  you,"  he  roared,  pointing  toward  the  valley 
Brevine. 

The  Frenchmen  appeared  in  a  humour,  rather  to  do  any- 
thing else,  than  to  follow  this  good  counsel.  Some  laughed ; 
others  exclaimed,  "  Stop  his  impertinent  mouth."  Neither 
of  them,  however,  was  seriously  concerned  about  him  ;  but 
they  stepped  up  closer  to  Florian,  who  rose  rather  discon- 
certed from  his  seat,  and  called  out  to  his  friend,  not  to 
suffer  himself  to  become  excited. 

"  So  you  will  accompany  us  to  the  castellan,"  said  the 
leader,  who  had  the  appearance  of  a  gens-d'arme  or 
custom-house  officer. 

"  Sir,  I  go  whither  I  list,"  retorted  the  fugitive — "  and  you 
may  go  whence  you  came.  I  love  liberty  and  equality,  and 
particularly  do  I  like  to  be  free  from  you,  and  people  of 
your  kind." 

"Away,"  roared  George,  "lest  you  wish  to  get  your 
sculls  cracked !  "  He  wielded  the  club  in  the  air,  as  if  to 
verify  his  threat ;  when  two  of  the  blue  coats  caught  hold 
of  his  arm,  so  firmly,  that  he  could  scarcely  move.  As 
soon  as  Florian  saw  his  friend's  predicament ;  how  he 
twisted  and  turned  to  free  himself  from  the  unexpected  em- 
brace ;  he  roared  out  in  a  frightful  tone  of  voice,  "  Loose 
your  grasp !  " 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


73 


At  those  words,  he  thrust  his  foot  so  powerfully,  and  with 
such  urgent  force  against  the  leader's  body,  that  the  tall 
gentleman  lost  his  breath  and  balance  ;  staggered  three 
paces  backward,  and  fell  to  the  ground,  like  a  prostrated 
pine.  At  the  same  moment  he  seized  hold  of  one  of  the 
blue-coats  who  was  standing  by  his  side,  and  first  hurled 
him,  then  the  other,  so  forcibly  to  the  earth,  that  the  ground 
quaked.  One  lay  there  like  dead  ;  while  the  other,  impelled 
by  the  force  of  his  fall,  rolled  down  the  steep  of  the  grassy 
hill,  and  remained  hanging  in  the  bushes  below.  When 
those  who,  like  the  Laocoon's  snakes,  held  the  furious 
George  still  entwined,  saw  this,  they  ceased  their  hold, 
and  ran  down  the  mountain  as  fast  as  their  feet  could  carry 
them.  It  was  in  vain  that  George  pursued  them  for  some 
distance,  with  uplifted  club,  showering  at  the  same  time 
the  strongest  imprecations  on  their  heads. 

On  his  return,  he  saw  his  friend  engaged  in  binding  up 
the  Captain's  bruised  head,  with  a  handkerchief;  while 
the  soldier  who  had  been  hurled  to  the  ground,  approached 
with  groans  and  timidity,  swearing  that  every  bone  in  his 
body  was  broken.  He  came  limping,  bent  double  with 
pain,  and  his  face  besmeared  with  the  dust  in  which  he  had 
wallowed — and  he  also,  who  had  rolled  down  the  hill,  came 
staggering,  like  one  drunk,  with  a  face  as  pale  as  death. 

"You  might  have  spared  us  this  vulgar  scene,"  said 
Florian,  politely,  to  the  leader  ;  "  I  do  not  love  to  engage  in 
quarrels  like  these." 

The  officer  groaned  out,  "  You  seem  to  have  more  ex- 
perience in  such  rustic  battles  than».I  have.  As  to  myself, 
sir,  I  am  a  soldier,  and  am  accustomed  to  fight  with  dif- 
ferent weapons  than  my  fists.  Had  I  a  sword  with  me,  I 
would  teach  you  how  to  dance  and  skip." 

"You  are  very  obliging,"  replied  Florian  ;  "I  dance  the 
Francaise  very  well,  but  with  my  sword  in  hand  I  should 


74 


FLORIAN  : 


play  a  Grisonne,  which  would  perhaps  not  please  you  very 
much.  For  the  present,  I  request  you  to  proceed  on  your 
journey  to  Brevine." 

11  Where  are  my  other  men  ?  There  are  two  still  miss- 
ing," said  the  Captain,  seeking  them  with  his  eyes,  without 
turning  his  head. 

"  They  have  run  in  advance  of  you,  to  order  your  supper 
in  La  Brevine,"  answered  the  victor  ;  "  you  had  better  run 
after  them,  if  you  like  it  warm." 

The  officer  departed  slowly,  then  stopped  again,  turned 
round,  and  said,  "  Sir,  beware  of  meeting  with  me,  for  I 
shall  be  on  the  look-out  for  you  ;  and  on  some  warm  sum- 
mer day,  with  my  sword  shall  run  you  through  the  body. 
My  name  is  Larmagne.    Bear  me  in  mind  !  " 

"I  consider  it  unnecessary  for  me  to  make  a  similar  re- 
quest of  you,"  said  Florian. 

The  officer  and  his  companions  crept  down  the  mountain 
towards  the  valley  of  La  Brevine,  uttering  curses  all  the 
way.  Florian  and  George  walked  in  an  opposite  direction 
towards  Les  Bayards,  amusing  themselves  with  their 
adventure. 

Night  had  already  set  in,  when  they  arrived  at  StafTard's 
hospitable  roof  on  La  Cote-aux-Fees. 

CHAPTER  XII. 
At  Home. 

On  the  next  morning,  Florian  remarked  the  improvements 
which  his  kind  and  attentive  host  had  made  in  his  little 
apartment.  Between  the  outer  and  inner  windows,  bloomed 
roses,  carnations,  and  other  fragrant  flowers.  A  neat  little 
writing-desk,  with  numerous  drawers  made  of  walnut,  and 
curiously  inlaid  with  maple,  graced  one  side  of  the  room. 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


75 


Over  his  table  was  spread  a  dark  green  cover,  very  tastefully 
embroidered  with  flowers.  His  bed,  covered  with  linen  of 
snowy  whiteness,  the  pillows  of  which  were  adorned  with 
silken  tassels,  stood  beside  the  door.  A  large  mirror  with 
gold  frame,  hung  between  the  window-curtains.  Florian 
never  expected  to  see  such  neatness  and  luxury  in  a  wooden 
farm-house  ;  and  least  of  all  among  those  solitary  mountains. 

"  Friend,"  said  the  elder  StafFard,  "  what  nature  denies 
us,  we  must  supply  by  art.  Here,  in  these  mountains,  the 
winter  lasts  from  eight  to  nine  months.  During  that  time 
we  are  compelled  to  keep  within  doors,  and  we  must 
therefore  make  our  narrow  world  as  agreeable  as  possible. 
Italians,  Spaniards,  and  the  French  can  pass  the  greater 
part  of  the  year  in  the  open  air  ;  in  consequence  of  which, 
their  habitations  are  neglected.  The  south  knows  the 
charms  of  a  public  life  ;  but  the  north,  as  an  indemnification, 
experiences  the  comforts  of  a  domestic  fire-side.  Wo  to 
the  wretch  who  wants  either !  and  truly,  my  friend,  we 
mountaineers  find,  in  the  end,  a  beautiful  artificial  summer 
in  the  winter,  just  as  charming  as  the  sun-burnt  southern- 
ers feel  an  artificial  winter  in  their  summer-sun." 

The  elder  Staffard  and  George  conducted  their  guest 
through  the  spacious  wooden  palace.  They  showed  him 
the  long  cow-houses  in  the  principal  and  other  buildings, 
the  extensive  storehouses  for  the  preservation  of  the  hay, 
during  the  long  winter  months  ;  the  cheese  magazines,  the 
cool  dairy,  and  all  the  establishments  of  those  rustic  occupa- 
tions. Staffard  had  formerly  carried  on  an  extensive  trade 
in  watches  and  lace.  His  son  had  been  twice,  and  he 
himself  five  times,  in  the  United  States  of  America.  For  a 
long  time  they  had  traversed  Europe  in  all  directions  ;  but 
finally,  after  having  accumulated  a  large  fortune,  they  had 
given  up  a  life  of  roving,  and  bought  large  tracts  of  land 
in  the  valleys  and  on  the  mountains  of  Switzerland. 


70 


FLOKIAN  : 


His  neighbours  considered  the  elder  Stafford  a  man  of 
wealth,  great  experience,  and  sound  sense.  Moreover,  his 
hospitality  and  honesty  were  widely  celebrated.  His 
horned  cattle,  and  his  cheeses,  which  he  exported  to  France 
and  England  under  the  name  of  Gray  ere,  were  sought  after 
by  foreigners.  Young  artists,  and  beginners,  who  went  up 
from  the  valleys  to  see  him,  to  ask  his  advice,  or  a  loan  of 
money,  seldom  left  his  house  dissatisfied. 

One  morning,  as  they  ascended  the  mountains  to  visit  the 
scattered  herds,  Florian  soon  remarked  the  unaffected  re- 
spect which,  through  La  Cote-aux-Fees,  was  everywhere 
shown  to  the  old  man  ;  from  each  hut  resounded  a  friendly 
greeting ;  and  in  all  places,  the  people  endeavoured  to 
detain  him  with  friendly  conversation. 

"  Truly,  you  are  a  very  happy  people  here,"  said  Florian, 
when  he  looked  from  the  top  of  the  mountain,  down  into  the 
peaceful  valley  below,  with  its  scattered  huts  in  the  treeless, 
grassy  meadows,  and  compared  the  tranquillity  of  the 
people  with  the  turbulence  and  horrors  which  the  war 
with  the  French  and  Austrians  had  brought  into  his  native 
land. 

"  Every  one  is,  who  desires  to  be  so,"  said  the  old  man. 
"There  are  people  here  too,  who  are  wretched." 

"  Those  who  are  wretched,  must  be  so  through  their  own 
faults,"  said  Florian. 

"  As  it  is  every  where  and  always  ;  were  this  not  so,  all 
people  would  be  happy,"  added  the  elder  Stafford. 

"  Yet  it  cannot  be  denied,  that  outward  circumstances 
are  great  props  to  life's  felicity,"  rejoined  Florian. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head,  and  said,  "  No,  that  is  ever 
one  of  its  most  pernicious  prejudices,  from  which  man 
draws  his  bitterest  destruction.  It  is  neither  rank,  nor 
riches,  nor  poverty,  nor  honour,  nor  a  full  table,  nor  any- 
thing appertaining  to  these,  which  conduce  to  our  happi- 


THE  FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


77 


ness  or  misery,  but  our  own  consideration  of  those  things. 
Do  you  not  know  that  kings  upon  their  thrones  have  cursed 
their  days,  and  martyrs  at  the  stake  have  sung  hymns 
of  joy,  when  the  red  flames  were  rising  above  their  heads?  " 

"  Very  well,  father  Staffard,"  replied  the  fugitive,  "  but 
how  would  it  be,  if  foreign  armies  were  to  invade  this 
silent  world,  kill  your  son,  destroy  your  cattle,  and  burn 
your  dwelling  ?" 

"  Well,  sir,  I  should  lose  a  great  deal,"  was  the  old 
man's  rejoinder.  M  But  my  son  may  die  without  falling  by 
the  hand  of  a  foreign  foe,  and  death  is  no  evil  to  him  who 
is  prepared  for  it.  There  is  no  evil,  excepting  the  evil  we 
ourselves  commit ;  but  to  enervate,  and  to  habituate  our- 
selves to  life's  luxuries,  those  also  are  evils." 

"  But  this  philosophy  ?"  said  Florian. 

"  Hold  !  say  Christianity,"  interrupted  Staffard. 

"  Very  well ;  but  with  all  these  Christian  principles,  if 
I  may  judge  by  appearances,  you  are  not  at  all  indifferent 
to  outward  decencies  and  enjoyments,"  Florian  replied. 

"  As  I  am  within  myself,  so  I  like  to  see  the  things  by 
which  I  am  surrounded,"  replied  the  old  man.  "  There- 
fore  the  world  is  beautiful,  because,  in  whatever  man  does 
or  is,  he  presents  more  or  less  a  counterpart  of  himself, 
and  gives  evidence  of  his  state  of  mind.  Thus  the  ambi- 
tious man  craves  to  be  idolized,  the  despot  wants  slaves, 
the  ignorant  man  loves  ignorance,  the  fool  delights  in 
nonsense,  the  enlightened  man  exults  in  intelligence,  and 
the  free  man  prizes  liberty.  How  could  man  scorn  en- 
joyments, without  scorning  himself?  " 

Florian  was  amazed  at  the  mountaineer's  wisdom,  and 
by  advancing  sentiments  of  his  own,  and  contradicting 
those  of  the  sage,  he  delighted  to  draw  out  the  old  man's 
opinions  with  regard  to  numberless  other  subjects. 

"  You  are  right,  father  Staffard,"  Florian  said  ;  "  all  1 


PLORIAft t 


now  see  and  feel  accords  with  my  sentiments,  and  with  my 
own  heart.  I  find  here  a  great  part  of  my  inner  life,  min- 
gling with  the  external  real  life  ;  it  is  consequently  en- 
tirely one  with  myself.  Here,  no  weakling,  no  libertine, 
no  sluggard,  no  voluptuary,  no  tyrant  can  feel  happy. 
When  in  these  sterile  mountains,  I  consider  the  multitude 
of  its  inhabitants,  and  their  prosperity,  the  cleanliness  and 
neatness  of  their  wooden  huts,  the  high  state  of  cultivation 
of  the  shepherd  families,  in  these  landscapes  of  meadows, 
the  wonderful  arts  and  industry  in  these  remote  solitudes, 
the  sobriety  and  moderation  in  this  generally  distributed 
state  of  wealth,  I  must  confess  that  the  C6te-aux-Fees  is 
the  happiest  spot  in  all  Switzerland." 

"  Not  so,  my  friend,"  interrupted  the  old  man.  "  Say, 
rather,  you  consider  yourself  happier  under  such  circum- 
stances, than  in  any  other  part  of  Switzerland,  where  there 
is  less  industry,  less  enhancement  of  the  beauty  of  life,  less 
simplicity  of  manners,  and  less  cultivation  of  the  mind. 
A  thousand  others  would  not  be  happy  here,  but  at  the 
sight  of  this  poor  soil,  and  its  contriving  inhabitants,  would 
shrug  their  shoulders  with  commiseration,  and  would  ejac- 
ulate, *  It  is  a  spacious  work-house,  and  a  useful  house  of 
correction.'  " 

"  But  by  what  means  have  the  inhabitants  of  this  sterile 
soil  attained  so  high  a  degree  of  perfection  ?"  asked  Flo- 
rian. 

"  By  those  means  by  which  all  people  may  arrive  at  a 
greater  perfection,"  answered  Staffard.  "Hard  necessity 
is  the  most  inventive  teacher ;  and  freedom  is  the  most  indus- 
trious help-mate!  Here  are  moors,  swamps,  rocks,  and 
long  winters  ;  but  here  labour  and  talent  are  free.  Here 
are  neither  compulsions,  nor  oppressive  taxes,  nor  vexa- 
tious ordinances  or  edicts,  nor  swarms  of  hungry  officers 
and  office-hunters !    We  have  a  powerful  sovereign,  but 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


79 


he  lives  with  his  courtiers,  and  his  splendour  is  at  a  dis- 
tance of  several  hundred  miles  hence,  and  we  have  nothing 
to  pay  towards  supporting  his  splendour.  He  is  our  pow- 
erful protector,  but  our  true  sovereign  is  the  law  we  give  to 
ourselves  !  " 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
The  Visit. 

In  the  afternoon,  Mr.  Standard  conducted  his  guest  to  the 
house  of  Madam  Bell,  whither  George  had  already  pre- 
ceded them.  The  road  ran  between  small  grazing  hills, 
which,  most  probably,  were  only  pieces  of  rocks  that  had 
rolled  down,  and  were  now  covered  over  with  earth. 
Then  it  stretched  towards  the  mountains,  and  towards  a 
naked  wall  of  grayish-yellow  rock,  that  could  be  seen  from 
the  whole  surrounding  country.  The  elder  Staffard  talked 
of  Claudine,  his  son's  bride,  and  with  much  gratification,  of 
her  frugality,  hilarity  of  temper,  and  of  the  eccentric  obsti- 
nacy of  her  mother,  Madam  Bell.  "  Claudine  long  since 
would  have  been  George's  wife" — said  he — "  and  my 
daughter-in-law,  had  not,  thirty  years  ago,  Madam  Bell 
herself,  married  on  the  twelfth  of  October,  which  acciden- 
tally happened  to  be  her  birth-day,  and  is  also  the  birth- 
day of  Claudine,  and  likewise  the  day  on  which  her  hus- 
band died,  with  many  other  events  besides.  She  thinks 
heaven  has  fixed  on  that  day  for  the  occurrence  of  all  the 
important  events  of  her  life,  and  she  is  firmly  persuaded 
also  that  it  will  be  the  day  of  her  death.  All  women  have 
their  caprices,  which  are  their  secret  religion,  and  to 
which  they  often  most  strictly  adhere." 

Staffard  talked  much,  but  Florian  heard  less,  the  nearer 
they  approached  to  Madam  Bell's  house,  which  being  plac- 


80 


FLORIAN  : 


ed  beside  a  fenced-in  garden,  exhibited  a  very  comfortable 
aspect.  This  was  Florian's  arcadia,  where,  beneath  the 
shingled  roofs  of  the  shepherds,  dwelt  his  fancied  goddesses. 
He  felt  a  warm  emotion  creeping  over  him,  as  they  passed 
through  the  cleanly  kitchen  into  a  low,  but  neat  little  par- 
lour. 

Madam  Bell  received  her  visitors  with  busy  politeness. 
Although  nearly  fifty  years  of  age,  her  regular  and  fine 
features  betrayed,  that  in  the  days  of  her  youth,  her  charms 
had  not  been  less  than  those  of  her  beautiful  daughter 
Claudine,  who  was  standing,  in  all  a  bride's  happiness, 
with  George,  beside  the  piano,  regarding  Florian,  while  in 
a  friendly  manner  she  saluted  him.  Madam  Bell  having 
invited  her  guests  to  be  seated,  commenced  immediately  a 
conversation  with  the  stranger.  In  her  cap  she  wore  a 
black  ribbon,  and  round  her  neck  a  crape  kerchief,  in 
memory  of  her  husband,  who  had  died  five  years  previous. 
But  more  eloquent  than  the  ribbon  or  crape,  was  a  mild 
and  deep-settled  melancholy,  which  generally  obscured  her 
natural  animation,  and  the  friendliness  of  her  countenance, 
like  clouds  dense  with  rain,  hiding  the  cheerful  smile  of 
the  sun. 

They  had  scarcely  conversed  a  few  minutes,  when  the 
door  opened,  and  Hermione  entered,  in  a  plain  and  simple 
dress.  On  her  head  she  wore  a  morning  cap,  the  broad 
lace  of  which  fell  gracefully  over  her  fine  forehead  and 
cheeks,  without  concealing  the  fulness  of  her  dark,  golden 
tresses,  that  played  about  her  temples  and  around  her 
neck.  As  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  stranger,  who,  indeed, 
was  no  stranger  to  her,  it  appeared  as  if  a  ray  of  the  even- 
ing red  had  fallen  through  the  window,  directly  upon  her 
countenance.  They  all  remarked  it  ;  Claudine,  however, 
more  plainly  than  the  others.  Florian  observed  it  not  at 
all. 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


81 


The  conversation  soon  turned  to  the.  principal  occurrences 
of  the  day,  and  to  the  military  disquietudes  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. It  was  reported  that  Wallenstadt,  on  the  lake, 
a  town  built  between  rocks  of  immense  height,  had  van- 
ished in  flames  ;  that  the  Arch-duke  Charles  had  penetra- 
ted into  the  heart  of  Switzerland ;  that  the  Valais  had 
risen  in  their  mountains  to  assist  the  Russians  and  Ger- 
mans against  the  French,  and  that  the  abbot  of  St.  Gall, 
and  the  senate  of  Zurich  and  SchafFhausen  were  striving 
under  the  protection  of  the  Austrian  bayonets,  to  enforce 
their  old  sovereignty  and  the  old  feudal  system  among  the 
peasantry ;  while  the  Helvetic  government  at  Berne,  de- 
prived of  all  hope,  seemed  to  be  getting  ready  to  do  penance 
in  sackcloth  and  ashes  ;  for  they  had  diminished  their  own 
salaries,  laid  aside  their  extraordinary  authority,  suffered 
the  militia  to  dissolve  and  go  to  their  homes,  and  no  longer 
punished  political  crimes. 

"  That  is  perfectly  right " — said  Staffard — "  for  political 
and  religious  principles,  and  the  acts  that  spring  out  of  ei- 
ther, cannot  be  judged  by  human  laws,  like  murder,  theft, 
or  any  other  crime.  How  is  that  act  to  be  punished  with 
death,  which,  at  the  distance  of  a  rifle  shot,  will  be  the  highest 
privilege  !  Political  parties  in  a  country  are  certainly  al- 
ways at  war  with  each  other  ;  yet  those  who  are  conquer- 
ed must  not  be  killed,  but  be  treated  as  prisoners  of  war." 

"  Ha,  father  " — exclaimed  George — "  the  Swiss,  or  rath- 
er their  governors,  are  cowards  every  where.  They  would 
throw  the  knife  away  which  they  have  sharpened  for  others, 
fearing  their  own  throats  would  be  cut  with  it." 

"  Shame  be  upon  us," — ejaculated  Florian — "  we  Swiss 
have  become  dumb  instruments,  placed  for  our  mutual  de- 
struction in  the  hands  of  foreigners.  If  the  French  or  Aus- 
trians  do  not  find  it  for  their  interest  to  raise  Switzerland 
to  its  former  standard,  Europe  will  no  longer  have  a  Swit- 
5 


82 


FLORIAN  : 


zerland.  And  she  ha*  come  to  this,  through  the  wretched 
policy  of  her  senate  and  the  mean  cunning  of  her  degener- 
ate confederates." 

The  ladies  remarked  the  deep  sorrow  which  the  discus- 
sion called  up  in  Florian's  heart,  by  the  change  of  his 
countenance. 

"  Men  should  never  lament,  hut  let  their  passions  lead 
them  onto  action" — said  Claudine.  "Action  becomes  all 
persons  of  strength  :  the  tear  and  the  sigh  belong  to  wo- 
men ;  because  in  their  weakness  lies  their  strength  against 
their  lords,  the  men.  You,  sir,  are  certainly  one  of  the 
strong  ones,  if  not  one  of  the  giants — for  you  gave  Her- 
mione  and  me  a  proof  it  at  the  chain  of  St.  Sulpice." 

"  It  might  be  questioned  who  of  us  two  proved  then  the 
stronger" — replied  Florian. 

"  Most  charming  !  " — exclaimed  Claudine. — "  So  you 
would  make  us  believe  that  we  weak  girls  had  aroused  your 
fear  ?  No,  no  !  you  could  not  make  us  believe  that  we 
should  ever  have  had  the  courage  to  cast  the  gauntlet  to  the 
feet  of  him  who  could  stretch  that  chain." 

"  But  you  have  cast  it  down  " — replied  Florian,  producing 
the  glove  which  he  had  found  in  the  cathedral  at  Neufcha- 
tel — "  and  I  now  return  it  to  the  owner,  with  all  due  rever- 
ence." 

As  soon  as  Claudine  recognised  Hcrmione's  lost  glove, 
she  gave  it  to  her  friend  with  extravagant  laughter.  She 
leaned  on  Hermione's  neck,  whispered  something  in  her 
ear,  and  laughed  still  more  heartily.  Hermione  however 
endeavoured  to  conceal  her  embarrassment  with  forced 
smiles.  She  blushed  deeply,  thanked  the  finder  in  a  scarce- 
ly audible  tone  of  voice  ;  and  then  added — "  But  how  could 
you  know  that  this  glove  belonged  to  me  or  to  Claudine  ? 
If  I  am  not  mistaken  I  lost  it  in  the  streets  of  Neufchatel." 

Florian  informed  the  ladies  with  so  much  good  humour 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


and  tact,  of  the  accident  that  had  induced  him  to  take  the 
walk  to  the  Cathedra],  that  all  were  greatly  amused.  Her- 
mione  only  remained  silent,  riveting  her  eyes  from  time  to 
time,  in  a  fit  of  musing,  upon  the  glove ;  and  seemed  scarce- 
ly to  notice  the  conversation,  which  had  become  very  ani- 
mated. 

Madam  Bell,  in  the  meantime,  had  arranged  the  tea- 
table  in  the  open  air.  There,  in  the  face  of  nature,  their 
conversation  took  a  wider  range,  on  the  social  condition  of 
life.  Hermione  also  began  to  advance  her  opinions  ;  and 
those  who  a  little  while  before  were  almost  strangers  in  the 
room,  gradually  inclined  towards  each  other  with  familiar 
frankness.  Confined  within  four  walls,  we  observe  more 
conventional  rules  and  domestic  circumstances ;  but  in  the 
open  air,  and  in  the  face  of  the  majesty  and  the  solemnity 
of  nature,  needless  ceremony  and  the  stiffness  of  etiquette 
become  absurd,  if  not  almost  ridiculous. 

In  the  room,  Florian  could  scarcely  have  sat  near  Her- 
mione— could  not  have  offered  her  his  hand  or  arm  when 
walking,  or  perhaps  would  not  have  directed  his  discourse 
to  her  alone.  But  all  that  happened  as  matters  of  course, 
when  Staffard  was  walking  with  Madam  Bell,  and  George 
with  Claudine. 

They  separated  at  a  late  hour — and  Florian  had  forgot- 
ten that  he  was  living  on  the  Jura — a  fugitive  ! 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Explanations. 

Still  and  uniform,  like  the  mountain  landscape,  but  on 
that  account  no  less  charming,  was  the  life  they  led  on  La 
Cote-aux-Fees.    Father  Staffard  devoted  the  greater  part  of 


84 


FLOKIAX  : 


the  day  to  the  business  of  the  house  and  the  farm,  or  in  writ- 
ing to  his  correspondents  in  France,  Italy,  and  other  coun- 
tries. He  had  many  poor  families  in  the  neighbouring  val- 
ley employed  in  weaving  lace  on  his  and  Madam  Bell's 
account.  George  traversed  the  valleys  every  week,  to  give 
orders  for  new  work,  or  to  pay  the  workmen.  Florian,  on 
the  contrary,  who  had  provided  himself  with  books,  passed 
a  considerable  part  of  the  day  in  solving  mathematical  prob- 
lems. The  afternoons  were  generally  passed  in  Madam 
Bell's  house,  or  at  Mr.  Standard's,  when  the  Bell  family  vis- 
ited them.  Besides,  every  week  they  had  a  regular  con- 
cert on  wind  instruments,  when  Florian  played  the  flute  to 
the  great  delight  of  the  audience. 

The  new  relation,  which  necessarily  grew  out  of  daily 
intercourse  with  Hermione,  was  so  charming,  and  withal 
so  very  strange,  that  Florian  by  no  means  could  under- 
stand it. 

The  people  on  La  C6te-aux-Fees,  soon  became  aware 
what  Hermione  and  Florian  were  to  each  other.  The  el- 
der StafTard  said — "  he  is  an  honest  man  ;  let  him  take  his 
own  course,  and  let  no  one  interfere  with  it."  But  Ma- 
dam Bell  felt  great  inclination  to  interpose — for  the  lot  of 
a  niece,  to  whom  she  stood  in  the  place  of  a  mother,  could 
not  be  indifferent  to  her.  She  wished  to  know  something 
more  of  the  fugitive.  Claudine  and  George,  for  their  part, 
immediately  agreed  that  Florian  and  Hermione  would 
make  an  excellent  wedded  pair.  Claudine,  wishing  for  the 
happiness  of  her  associate,  was  not  less  ardent  than  George 
for  his  friend.  Every  one  of  them  had  advanced  further 
into  the  union  of  the  two  parties  than  the  principals  them- 
selves. 

M  You  foolish  little  coz " — said  Claudine  to  Hermione, 
one  day,  "  you  love  him,  and  cannot  deny  it,  ever  since  you 
saw  him  in  the  garden  at  Reichenau,  and  afterward  in  the 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


65 


streets  of  Coire  !  Only  think  of  his  again  appearing  to 
you  at  the  chain  !  And  then  reflect  on  your  morning  dream, 
about  the  lost  glove,  and  how  you  felt  when  it  passed  into 
actual  fulfilment." 

"  May  God  decide  !  " — said  Hermione,  folding  her  hands, 
and  lifting  her  eyes  to  heaven. 

"You  terrify  me,  Hermione" — rejoined  Claudine — 
"  what  harm  can  he  have  done  you  since  yesterday?  " 

"  He  can  harm  me  no  more  " — replied  Hermione — "  he 
has  annihilated  me.  Fate  shook  my  existence,  and  it  unit- 
ed with  his  ;  as  one  trembling  dew-drop  mingles  with  an- 
other." 

"  So  now  we  understand  each  other  " — said  Claudine — 
"you  mean  that  you  cannot  live  without  him." 

"Believe  me,  Claudine" — said  her  friend — "that  which 
you  call  love — what  others  do  from  choice,  affection  or  cal- 
culation— is  with  me  and  Florian  a  law  of  necessity.  Will 
has  here  no  power.  I  was  compelled  to  meet  him.  I  was 
compelled  to  find  him  every  where  ;  and  when  I  was  en- 
deavouring to  avoid  him,  I  was  compelled  to  be  lost  on  him." 

"  Will  you  not  speak  reason  ?  " — inquired  Claudine — 
"  good  little  philosopher,  if  indeed  I  have  sense  enough  to 
understand  your  mystical  language.  You  will  however  ad- 
mit, I  hope,  that  every  girl  loves  to  be  lost  in  the  same  man- 
ner that  you  and  I  are  lost.  In  such  a  case  we  find  our- 
selves back  again  with  a  hundred  per  cent,  gain !  " 

"  Claudine,  you  misunderstand  me  " — replied  Hermione. 
"  Against  my  will  I  am  linked  to  him  by  a  superior  power." 

"  Oh,  you  poor  coz  !  if  the  matter  cannot  be  helped  " — 
retorted  Claudine — "  it  would  be  better  to  shut  your  eyes 
and  swallow  the  pill.  Oh  Hermione,  Hermione,  think  of 
the  twelfth  of  October  !  Oh,  Hermione,  think  of  your  and 
my  wedding-day  !" 

At  these  words,  Hermione  suddenly  pushed  Claudine's 


so 


FLORIAN  I 


extended  hand  from  her,  and  drooping  her  head  on  her 
breast,  exclaimed—"  Oft,  never  say  so  again  !  I  become 
the  wife  of  any  other  man  ?  I  could  not  harbour  such  a 
thought,  without  loathing  myself — nay,  let  us  break  off. 
We  will  never  speak  of  this  again." 

Claudine  laughed  outright,  yet  could  not  forbear  looking 
at  her  friend  with  pity  and  astonishment. 

George  was  nearly  as  much  astonished  when  he  was 
about  to  speak  with  his  friend  on  the  same  subject.  The 
young  Grison  was  very  loath  either  to  speak  of  his  affec- 
tion, or  to  believe  that  Hermione  loved  him. 

"You  are  a  strange  fellow,  Florian  " — said  George — "  but 
confess  to  me  that  you  love  her." 

"  As  I  love  all  that  is  beautiful  and  good  " — replied  the  fu- 
gitive— "as  you  yourself  love  it,  George." 

"  I  think  " — rejoined  young  Stafford — "  my  Claudine  would 
most  politely  request  of  me  to  make  a  slight  difference  be- 
tween love  for  her  and  love  to  others.  But  I  do  not  see 
why  you  should  strive  against  it — you  most  fortunate  man." 

"Do  not  call  me  fortunate  !"  retorted  the  Grison. 

"  But  Claudine  has  informed  me  " — said  George — "  that 
this  ethereal  Hermione  has  known  you  long.  Already  in 
the  garden  of  Reichenau  you  conquered  her  heart ;  then 
afterwards  in  Coire,  where  under  her  window  you  upset  a 
loaded  cart  and  chastised  the  peasant  who  owned  it,  for  re- 
fusing to  let  a  wagon  full  of  wounded  French  soldiers  pass." 

"  How  !  beneath  Hermione's  window  did  that  happen  ?" 
asked  Florian. 

"  See,  Florian  " — remarked  his  friend — "  she  has  forgot- 
ten nothing ;  not  even  the  brown  mole  at  the  side  of  your 
ear.  She  had  mentioned  you  to  Claudine  before  you  met 
her  at  the  chain.  She  even  dreamed  that  she  had  received 
her  lost  glove  through  you  before  you  gave  it  to  her.  What 


THE  FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


87 


do  you  want  more  than  this  ?  and  if  all  this  should  prove 
nothing,  the  eyes  and  ears  of  all  of.us  could  do  it." 

"  If  such  a  thing  were  possible  " — replied  Florian,  staring 
before  him — "  what  I  could  never  have  believed,  and  she 
should  feel  a  waking  affection  for  me,  I  would — yes,  to- 
morrow would  I  flee  this  lovely  spot  to  save  her  peace.  I 
would  never  be  the  wretch  to  make  Hermione  miserable." 

"  Miserable  !  what  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  George. 

"  How  could  it  end  otherwise  ?"  rejoined  the  Grison. 

"As  it  will  with  Claudine  and  myself" — said  his  friend 
— "you  are  independent  and  affluent;  Mademoiselle  De- 
lory  has  considerable  property  of  her  own.  Her  step-fa- 
ther is  said  to  be  an  excellent  man.    Therefore  " — 

"  Ah,  George  " — exclaimed  Florian — "  I  ought  not  to  say 
it,  but  I  am  compelled  to  say  to  you,  Get  thee  behind  me, 
Satan  !  I  am  an  outlaw  and  a  fugitive.  My  country  has 
still  claims  to  my  blood.  I  must  not  think  of  quiet  and 
marriage  until  the  Grisons  are  freed  from  the  yoke  of  a  for- 
eign foe.  And  who  can  give  me  surety  that  my  paternal 
property  has  not  been  confiscated  like  that  of  my  relations 
in  Vatlin  ?  I  must  wait  for  the  days  of  peace  and  indepen- 
dence ;  and  then  I  may  allow  myself  to  think  of  domestic 
felicity.  Unless  his  country  be  in  a  state  of  quiet  and  pros- 
perity, a  Swiss  knows  no  happiness." 

George  looked  at  the  excited  features  of  the  Grison,  and 
then  casting  his  arm  around  him,  he  said — "  You  are  the 
man  you  should  be,  but  in  love  notwithstanding." 

"  Well,  yes  !  but  I  love  as  a  man  should  be  in  love,  with 
holiness  and  magnanimity  " — declared  the  fugitive. 

After  that  conversation,  George  never  again  ventured  to 
introduce  the  subject  to  Florian.  Claudine  also  feared  to 
inquire  into  Hermione's  feelings.  Those  two  singular  be- 
ings, as  they  were  esteemed,  were  left  to  follow  their  own 
inclin  tions. 


FLORIAIi  : 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Discoveries. 

Florian  and  Hermione's  declarations  were  communica- 
ted to  father  Staffard  and  Madam  Bell,  and  both  were  sat- 
isfied with  it.  "Florian  is  a  noble  man" — said  father 
Staffard  to  his  son — "  were  he  to  come  here  a  fugitive,  and 
find  here  a  pretty  girl,  fall  in  love  with  her,  and  talk  to  her 
of  love  and  matrimony,  truly,  he  would  be  either  a  madman 
or  an  adventurer."  Madam  Bell  thought  the  same.  Her 
mind  was  still  more  quieted  by  Hermione's  decided  disin- 
clination to  express  herself  favourably  of  Florian  in  any 
manner  whatsoever,  and  because  the  young  lady's  deport- 
ment towards  him  was  just  the  same  as  to  any  other  per- 
son, who  was  totally  indifferent  to  her ;  for  she  neither 
avoided  him  nor  sought  his  society — yet  she  gave  indica- 
tions of  a  secret  haughty  fear  that  she  had  of  him. 

Old  Staffard  smiled  at  that  behaviour.  His  sound  com- 
mon sense  solved  the  mystery  in  quite  a  different  manner 
from  Madam  Bell.  "My  dear  neighbour" — he  said — 
"  there  is  still  some  danger  in  this.  I  would  trust  Florian 
for  ten  years,  for  he  is  a  man  ;  but  I  would  not  trust  Her- 
mione  for  ten  minutes,  for  she  is  a  woman.  She  loves,  and 
her  pride  revolts  against  her  inclination.  The  little  queen 
would  justify  herself  towards  herself.  She  says  that  she 
does  not  love  him  ;  but  that,  by  the  power  of  a  superior 
agency,  she  is  impelled  towards  him.  You  know  that  the 
enthusiast  finds  everything  natural.  She  lives  with  her 
head  in  another  world.  And  thus  are  all  you  women.  Ev- 
ery one  of  you  is  a  founder  of  a  new  philosophy,  and  of  a 
new  poetry.  This  every-day  world  is  too  common  for  you  ; 
and  you  must  needs  fill  it  with  wonders.  Mother  Morne 
fancies  that  she  has  intercourse  with  invisible  spirits.  So 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


Hermione  attributes  every  trifling  occurrence  to  a  direct 
immediate  Divine  Providence.  You  yourself,  madam,  have 
your  mysterious  twelfth  of  October,  and  other  fate-days* 
My  wife  never  resolved  upon  anything  without  consulting 
her  oracle — which  was  the  passage  that  on  opening  the 
Bible  first  met  her  eye.  Even  Claudine,  light-minded  as 
she  is,  can  become  melancholy  when  she  has  had  a  dream 
that  seems  to  her  of  significancy." 

"My  dear  neighbour" — said  Madam  Bell,  a  little  vexed 
by  Mr.  StafTard's  incredulity — "feeling  and  presentiment 
often  judge  more  accurately  than  reason,  which  is  satisfied 
only  with  what  the  eye  sees  and  the  ear  hears.  I  know, 
however,  some  very  sensible  men  who  consider  old  Morne 
a  crazed  person,  but  who  are  nevertheless  very  much  con- 
founded when  she  brings  revelations  from  her  world  of  wak- 
ing dreams  which  surpass  the  reason  of  those  more  sensi- 
ble men." 

Mr.  Staffard,  perceiving  that  the  bolt  was  shot  at  him, 
took  Madam  Bell's  hand  very  kindly  in  both  of  his,  and 
said — "  No  quarrelling,  my  dear  neighbour,  between  us — I 
will  very  cheerfully  admit  that  old  Morne  knows  sometimes 
a  great  deal  more  than  either  of  us ;  but  I  think  she  re- 
ceives her  knowledge  in  a  very  natural  manner.  She  is 
always  busy  roving  about,  and  consequently  hears  and  sees 
a  thousand  things  of  which  we  are  never  apprised.  With- 
out knowing  it,  or  wishing  it,  all  things  suiting  to  each  other, 
combine  in  her  old,  experienced  head,  she  draws  happy  and 
often  very  sagacious  inferences.  She  is  astonished  at  her 
own  knowledge,  because  she  cannot  herself  clearly  under- 
stand how  she  acquired  it ;  and  thus  she  fancies  herself  en- 
dowed with  superhuman  properties.  She  deceives  no  one, 
excepting  in  the  most  honest  manner — herself." 

"Then  you  really  think,  friend  Stafford" — said  Madam 
Bell — "  that  it  was  nothing  more  than  mere  guess-work 
5* 


90 


FLORIAN  : 


when  old  Morne  came  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day 
that  Mr.  Florian  arrived  at  your  house  at  night,  and  cau- 
tioned me  about  Hermione  ]  How  did  she  know  he  was 
in  this  country  ?  How  could  she  feel  any  apprehension  in 
regard  to  Hermione's  heart,  who  on  that  day  was  with 
Claudine  at  Neufchatel? " 

"That  Florian  was  in  the  country" — replied  father  Staf- 
fard — "  she  did  by  no  means  guess ;  for  Florian  told  me 
that  she  had  seen  him  on  the  top  of  Le  Gros  Taureau. 
That  he  would  seek  refuge  in  La  Cote-aux-Fees,  and  most 
probably  in  my  house,  she  could  easily  conjecture,  for  she 
herself  had  advised  him  so  to  do.  That  she  cautioned  you, 
madam,  to  have  a  care  over  Hermione's  heart,  I  explain  to 
myself  by  supposing  that  Hermione  or  Claudine,  in  a  fa- 
miliar chat  with  the  old  woman,  described,  perhaps,  the 
man  who,  in  the  Grisons,  had  made  so  strange  an  impres- 
sion on  the  young  lady's  heart.  Mother  Morne,  as  soon  as 
she  saw  the  man,  undoubtedly  recognised  him  by  the  de- 
scription she  had  heard  of  him." 

Madam  Bell  was  no  less  astonished  at  the  solution  of  the 
mystery  than  she  had  been  at  the  mystery  itself.  "Ah!" 
— she  said,  with  a  smile,  but  rather  vexed,  withdrawing  at 
the  same  time  her  hand  from  old  StafFard's — "  you  men  can 
always  give  yourselves  the  appearance  of  being  in  the 
right.  We  women  have  only  hearts,  and  you  have  heads. 
Yet  I  love  not  this  heartless  reasoning,  which  would  fain 
make  out  of  all  nature  a  lifeless  clock-work." 

"  Nay,  my  dear  neighbour  " — exclaimed  father  Staffard — 
"  let  us  make  peace  between  the  heart  and  head.  It  is  for 
that  very  reason  that  a  man  and  woman  are  necessary  to 
each  other,  like  the  rich  man  and  the  poor,  because  one 
possesses  what  the  other  has  not  got.  I  will  cheerfully  ad- 
mit that  the  heart  is  often  right ;  but  you  must  grant,  in  re- 
turn, that  at  times  it  errs  a  little." 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


91 


"Why  should  I  not  1  "—replied  Madam  Bell— "  only 
with  this  difference,  that  the  error  of  the  heart  sometimes 
brings  with  it  a  greater  blessing  than  the  greatest  truth  of 
the  understanding." 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
The  Dream. 

While  the  good  people  on  La  Cote-aux-Fees,  were  busy- 
ing themselves  about  the  affairs  of  Florian's  heart,  he 
himself  was  occupied  with  quite  different  concerns.  He 
counted  his  means,  which  partly  consisted  in  ready  money, 
and  partly  in  drafts  payable  at  sight,  on  a  rich  commercial 
house  in  Basle.  He  could  not  think  of  returning  to  the 
Grisons,  although  the  French  armies  were  expelled  from 
all  their  valleys.  He  felt  no  inclination  to  be  dragged  by 
the  Austrians  into  Tyrol,  after  having  made  his  escape 
from  the  French.  His  farm,  his  Alps,  and  his  pasture 
grounds  at  home  were  secured  to  him,  since  he  had 
appointed  a  trustworthy  man  as  his  administrator.  Hence 
the  question  was  this  :  where  should  he  go  ? 

This  question  occupied  his  mind  so  much,  that  on  a  fine 
afternoon  in  June,  when  he  was  sauntering  towards  the 
acclivity  of  the  rocks,  he  lost  his  way.  He  found  himself 
between  an  underwood  of  firs  and  maples  ;  and  before  him 
was  the  lofty,  dark,  yellowish  calcareous  rock,  which 
hitherto  he  had  only  seen  at  a  distance. 

Rather  fatigued  from  his  rambles,  he  sat  down  to  rest, 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  a  cavern.  The  silence  of  the 
mountainous  region,  sometimes  interrupted  by  the  monoto- 
nous sound  of  the  distant  herd-bell,  invited  him  to  slumber. 

"  Fugitive  !  " — he  exclaimed,  in  the  bitterness  of  his 


FLOEIAX  : 


heart — u  and  yet  not  criminal ;   loved  perhaps  by  the  love 
liest  being  among  the  Alps,  with  yet  no  hope  of  ever 
calling  her  mine  !  " 

Thus,  in  dreaming  reflection,  or  reflecting  dreaminess, 
he  saw  the  wood,  the  mountain,  the  plains,  the  rivers,  and 
the  sea,  pass  before  his  vision.  The  firmer  the  balmy 
hand  of  slumber  closed  his  eyelids,  the  more  charming  be- 
came the  landscapes  that  floated  round  about  him.  At  length 
he  saw  the  sea,  rolling  beyond  the  hills,  and  dashing  its 
dark  blue  waves  against  a  pleasant  and  verdant  shore.  In 
the  distance,  as  if  painted  on  a  blue  ground,  rose  the  spires 
of  a  city.  Towards  it  he  bent  his  steps,  with  a  light  heart, 
when  a  well-known  voice  called  him  by  name.  As  he 
turned  his  head  aside,  he  saw  a  beautiful  and  charming 
white  villa,  in  the  midst  of  a  garden,  shaded  by  high 
poplars.  On  a  balcony,  cased  around  with  a  gilt  railing, 
sat  Hermione,  beckoning  him.  He  flew  to  meet  her,  with 
the  anxiousness  of  first  love.  But  on  his  entering  the 
garden,  he  saw  her  already  coming  towards  him,  walking 
as  it  seemed  through  a  bed  of  lilies,  when  she  suddenly 
stopped,  and  said — "  Now  I  shall  bind  you  well."  She 
undid  a  broad  silken  ribbon,  which  she  wore  round  her 
waist,  and  was  about  to  threw  it  over  him,  when  it  suddenly 
changed  into  a  snake  that,  winding  itself  round  him  and 
her  both,  drew  them  closely  together  ;  and  then  taking  its 
own  tail  in  its  mouth,  formed  a  living  ring.  Hermione 
uttered  a  loud  shriek,  which  alarmed  him  so  much,  that  he 
awoke  from  his  dream,  and  on  opening  his  eyes,  he  beheld 
Hermione  flying  from  his  side,  with  averted  face,  and  saw 
her  once  more  turn  to  look  at  him.  With  bewildered 
senses  he  sprang  from  the  ground,  and  called  out, — 
"Mademoiselle  Delory,  why  do  you  fly  me  ?" 

She  might  have  served  as  a  model  for  an  artist,  could  he 
have  seen  her  as  she  stood  there,  with  a  face  suffused  with 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


93 


crimson,  her  straw  bonnet  protecting  her  against  the  rays 
of  the  sun,  carrying  in  her  left  hand  a  little  ribbon  basket, 
and  in  her  right  hand  a  shepherd's  staff. 

"  Pardon  me,  sir," — said  she — "  I  fear  I  have  disturbed 
your  slumbers." 

"  And  I  thank  you  for  doing  so,  Mademoiselle  Delory," — 
replied  Florian, — "  nothing  could  more  agreeably  have 
interrupted  my  dream." 

"  And  have  you  really  dreamed  ?  " — exclaimed  Her- 
mione  ;  with  a  countenance  expressive  of  impatient  curi- 
osity, mingled  with  serious  apprehension,  almost  approach- 
ing to  terror.  Florian  replying,  more  to  the  expression  of 
her  face,  than  to  the  question,  said — "  Is  it  allowable  to 
dream  here  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  certainly !  but  do  you  know  where  you  have 
been  dreaming  ?  " — replied  Hermione,  pointing  with  her 
staff  to  the  cavern. 

'*  Why,  do  dragons  or  snakes  revel  there  ?  "  inquired  the 
Grison. 

"  Nay,  do  not  jest," — said  Hermione, — "  have  you  no 
knowledge  of  this  place  1  Do  you  not  know  what  the 
people  say  of  it  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  mademoiselle,  not  a  word," — said  Florian. 

"  It  is  the  entrance  to  the  fairy's  temple.  Some  super- 
natural power  is  ruling  within  there.  You  may  believe  it ; 
for  whosoever  falls  asleep  here,  receives  prophesying 
dreams.  Have  you  really  dreamed  ?  " — asked  the  young 
lady. 

"  I  have  indeed  " — he  answered  " — and  I  am  greatly  be- 
holden to  the  fairies." 

"  Has  some  one  appeared  to  you  ? "  was  Hermione's  in- 
quiry. 

"  Most  certainly  " — responded  the  fugitive — "  and  I  be- 
lieve a  more  lovely  fairy  than  ever  appeared  in  the  Arabian 
Nights." 


D4 


FLORIAN  : 


"  Oh  !  permit  me  to  be  a  little  curious  " — rejoined  the 
damsel. — "Pray  tell  me  in  what  form  she  appeared." 

"Oh!  in  a  form" — he  replied — "which  as  long  as  I 
draw  the  breath  of  life,  must  be  to  me  the  most  beautiful, 
the  most  memorable,  and,  alas  !  the  most  dangerous  !  " 

"  Indeed  !  " — exclaimed  Hermione — "  I  am  curious  to 
know  what  the  form  of  this  fairy  was,  and — pray  tell  me 
your  whole  dream,  monsieur?  " 

Florian  was  embarrassed,  and  looked  down,  when  he 
answered — "  I  scarcely  dare  tell  it,  but  what  should  we 
care  for  dreams  ?  Reality  itself  is  the  most  beautiful  of  all 
dreams." 

  "  And  so  you  refuse  to  grant  my  request  ?  " 

Hermione  asked. — "  But  do  you  know  that  this  dream  is 
closely  connected  with  your  future  destiny  ?  Do  you  know 
that  it  may  teach,  counsel,  and  caution  you?  " 

"  Your  solemnity,  mademoiselle,  alarms  me  !  "  said 
Florian. 

  "  See,  it  is  not  without  reason,  " — rejoined  the 

lady, — "  that  sleep  is  called  the  brother  of  death  ;  for  when 
we  are  asleep,  we  are  half-dead.  The  body  lies  senseless, 
while  the  soul  extends  into  another  sphere  of  action,  lives 
in  another  world,  and  has  another  language  and  other 
visions.  Dreams  are  but  the  last  rays  of  the  sun  setting  in 
a  spiritual  world,  and  casting  a  faint  and  calm  light  across 
the  ocean  of  infinitude,  upon  the  things  of  this  earth." 

Florian  smiled  ;  for  the  beautiful  maiden  stood  before 
him,  in  an  exalted  dignity,  teaching  and  commanding  belief, 
like  a  gray-bearded  philosopher.  He  took  her  hand  tenderly, 
and  impressed  a  gentle  kiss  upon  it,  as  if  he  would  ask  for- 
giveness for  his  smile. 

"  Jest  on,  jest  on  !  " — she  said,  a  little  vexed,  yet  unable 
to  forbear  smiling  herself. — "  The  time  will  come,  when 
your  mind  will  revert  to  this  moment ;  then  you  will  not 
jest,  and  then,  my  friend,  you  will  also  remember  me." 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  J  Lit  A. 


95 


"  Oh  !  surely,  surely,  will  I  remember  you  " — replied 
Florian — "  for  while  I  was  half-dead,  I  thought  of  you." 

"  How  so,  half-dead  ?  " — she  retorted. 

"  Did  you  not  say  " — -asked  Florian — "  that  when  sleep- 
ing we  are  half-dead  ?  " 

"  Nay,  I  pray  you  to  be  serious  " — answered  Hermione — 
M  but  for  one  moment.  You  are  a  little  light-minded.  But 
just  here  you  should  not  be  so.   Now  tell  me  your  dream." 

"  Well,  then.  But  first  "—-said  the  fugitive — "  let  us 
seek,  if  you  please,  a  cool  and  shady  place  ;  for  I  cannot 
bear  to  see  you  suffer  with  the  heat  of  the  sun." 

"Then  let  us  return  to  the  place  where  you  reposed," — 
replied  Hermione, — "there  is  always  a  cooling  breeze, 
even  in  the  hottest  day  of  summer." 

They  returned  to  the  place,  and  Florian  soon  felt  that 
Hermione  was  not  mistaken ;  for  a  gentle  and  refreshing 
breeze  passed  over  the  place  where  they  stood. 

"  It  would  almost  seem  that  you  are  a  seer,  Mademoiselle 
Delory," — said  Florian. 

Hermione  pointed  towards  the  cave.  "  Thence,  out  of 
the  fairy  temple" — she  added — "is  wafted  this  invisible 
stream." 

"  Which  bears  such  sweet  dreams  on  its  soft  and  balmy 
bosom  " — subjoined  the  Grison. 

"  Yes,  my  friend  ;  and  such  dreams  as  are  ominous  " — 
appended  his  female  companion. 

"  You  are  right,  mademoiselle," — said  Florian, — "  and  if 
our  fancy  is  always  peopled  with  such  sweet  dreams  in  this 
place,  depend  upon  it,  my  friend,  I  shall  come  here  every 
day,  and  endeavour  to  sink  into  the  arms  of  slumber.  But 
what  reason  have  you  for  supposing  that  dreams  here  are 
more  significant  than  elsewhere  ?  " 

"Must  I  tell  you  " — Hermione  answered — "  that  you  may 
have  cause  to  jest  again  ?    You  are  an  enlightened  man, 


96 


FLOS! AN  : 


my  friend,  but  you  are  also  like  all  men.  You  believe 
everything,  excepting  what  is  most  worthy  of  belief.  You 
believe  in  effects,  but  not  in  causes.  You  believe  in  phe- 
nomena, but  not  in  power.  There  is  a  power  living  in 
this  blade  of  grass,  in  this  stone,  in  every  tree.  Who 
knows  the  heavenly  realms,  and  the  hosts  of  power  therein  ? 
An  infinite  chain  of  powers,  or  spirits,  comes  down  upon  us 
from  the  throne  of  God.  We  touch  the  chain  ;  we  are 
connected  with  it.  There  are  situations  in  which  we  hold 
communion  with  other,  perhaps  higher,  and  also  perhaps 
with  subordinate,  as  well  as  with  human  spirits." 

"  My  fair  visionary,  will  you  not  instruct  me,"  asked  the 
fugitive,  "  in  some  of  your  mysteries  ?  Although  I  am  well 
aware  that  on  earth  I  shall  never  see  a  more  beautiful 
being  than  yourself,  yet  I  fain  would  make  a  trial  with 
others." 

"  And  yet  you  have  already  made  the  trial "  she  rejoined  ; 
"  have  you  not  experienced  the  power  of  the  fairies'  temple  ? 
Have  you  not  looked  into  your  own  future  ?  You  slumbered 
here.  The  invisible  stream  of  this  cave  floated  over  you, 
and  in  a  dream  it  caused  your  soul  to  see  more  clearly.  It 
was  nothing  else  than  this  secret  power  of  nature,  which 
inspired  the  priestess  at  Delphos,  and  enabled  her  to  give 
revelations  of  the  future.  You  slumbered  here,  and  that 
power  of  nature,  which  he  of  Greece  was  called  Apollo, 
and  represented  in  the  form  of  eternal  youth,  and  which  the 
peasants  here  term  fairy,  came  over  you.  You  have  be- 
come your  own  oracle,  your  own  Pythian  priestess.  It  is 
now  at  your  option,  either  to  believe  or  to  disbelieve  this  j 
but  tell  me  your  dream  ?  I  must  know  it,  for  it  is  of  im- 
portance to  me." 

"  And  do  you  think  it  will  be  fulfilled  ?"  inquired  Florian. 

"  Who  may  interpret  omens  coming  from  an  invisible 
world  ?  But  quick,  tell  me  your  dream  ! "  replied  Hermione. 


THE    FUGITIVE    OF   THE  JUKA. 


97 


Florian  could  no  longer  disobey  his  fair  petitioner.  He 
told  her  what  thoughts  had  occupied  his  fancy,  when  he 
had  fallen  asleep.  Then  how  the  mountains  had  floated 
before  his  vision,  and  the  different  regions  of  country  and 
the  rivers.  Then,  how  suddenly  the  sea  with  its  verdant 
shores  full  of  hills,  and  beyond  it  in  the  distance,  a  city  had 
burst  on  his  sight.  He  endeavoured  to  paint  the  landscape 
as  well  as  his  recollection  would  permit.  He  then  spoke  of 
the  voice  that  he  had  heard,  coming  from  the  house  in  the 
garden.  As  he  proceeded  in  his  narrative,  Hermione's 
attention  became  more  and  more  riveted.  She  stared  at 
him  with  a  wild  and  solemn  gaze,  and  then  exclaimed, 
"  Oh,  no  !  oh,  no  !  That  is  St.  Imar,  my  parental  home, 
and  the  city  is  Autibes." 

He  spoke  of  Hermione's  appearing  in  a  gilded  balcony  : 
"  No,  no,  it  is  impossible,"  she  cried  again,  "  my  dear 
mother  had  it  thus  renovated  in  the  last  year  of  her  life." 

Florian  remarked,  that  the  telling  of  his  dream  produced 
a  singular  and  powerful  effect  upon  Hermione  ;  while  he 
himself  began  to  feel  rather  strangely.  "  My  dear  Made- 
moiselle Delory,"  he  said,  "you  are  joking  with  me." 

But  she  solemnly  shook  her  head,  and  said,  "  Oh,  I  pray 
you  continue,  do  not  interrupt  yourself! " 

Florian  then  commenced  describing  the  garden,  for  she 
insisted  upon  knowing  all  the  particulars.  But  when  he 
mentioned  the  multitude  of  lilies  through  which  Hermione 
had  come,  she  folded  her  hands,  drooped  her  head  upon 
her  bosom,  and  said,  "  I  know  them  well.  Often  have  I 
gamboled  among  those  lilies  when  a  child.  They  were 
the  favourites  of  my  mother,  and  in  the  whole  neighbourhood, 
our  St.  Imar  was  called  the  garden  of  the  lilies." 

"  Singular,  that  in  my  dream  I  should  become  a  visionary !  " 
said  Florian,  smiling  ;  but  indeed  amazed  at  Mademoiselle 
Delory's  words, — "  Imagination  has  played  us  both  a  trick," 


98 


FLORIAX  : 


he  continued;  "it  is  of  all  fairies  the  most  malicious  one. 
We  both  attach  to  the  same  words  the  most  different  images 
and  scenes." 

"  Finish  relating  your  dream,  my  friend,"  exclaimed  the 
young  lady,  with  anxious  curiosity. 

He  proceeded  to  relate  the  occurrence  with  the  ribbon, 
how  it  had  been  transformed  into  a  serpent,  and  that  the 
moment  after  it  had  taken  its  tail  in  its  mouth,  and  thus 
formed  a  ring,  his  dream  was  at  an  end.  Hermione  averted 
her  face,  and  her  bonnet  concealed  from  his  view  the  change 
of  her  colour,  how  it  even  vied  with  the  paleness  of  the 
lilies  in  her  mother's  garden,  and  then  became  suffused 
with  the  glow  of  a  newly-blown  rose. 

"  Truly,"  said  Florian,  in  a  soft  tone  of  voice  ;  a  tone 
which  bespoke  the  whole  depth  of  his  love,  "  truly,  if  my 
dream  has  indeed  a  prophetic  appearance,  it  is  that  which 
it  assumed  at  last,  when  the  ribbon,  with  which  you,  my 
dear  friend,  bound  me,  became  suddenly  the  emblem  of 
eternity.  I  might  attach  some  meaning  to  that  circum- 
stance, if  I  dared  to  venture." 

Absorbed  in  thought,  with  drooping  head  and  half-averted 
face,  Hermione,  with  her  staff,  drew  lines  in  the  dust.  How 
much  would  he  have  given,  could  he  have  read  what  then 
passed  in  her  mind  ! 

Suddenly  she  lifted  her  head,  and  with  a  mien  of  silent 
resignation,  remarked  :  "  We  now  have  a  mutual  secret, 
reveal  not  your  dream  to  any  one.  Do  you  wish  to  see  the 
fairies'  temple  ?  Come  then,  and  allow  me  to  be  your 
conductress." 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


00 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  Fairies'  Temple. 

Hermione  led  the  way.  When  they  had  arrived  at  the 
entrance  of  the  cave,  she  took  from  her  basket  a  neat  little 
lantern  and  lire  apparatus. 

"  So  it  was  your  intention  to  enter  this  enchanting  cavern," 
exclaimed  Florian.  "  Did  you  not  come  hither  for  that 
purpose  ?  And  would  you  have  ventured  without  a  com- 
panion in  this  mysterious  cave  ?  " 

"  It  requires  no  heroism  to  do  that,"  said  Hermione, 
with  a  friendly  smile,  "  particularly  since  the  young  Mr. 
Staffard  has  had  boards  laid  across  the  slippery  rocks  for 
Claudine  and  me.  There  is  no  danger  now  in  crossing, 
and  on  a  fine  summer  day  I  love  to  visit  this  temple  beneath 
the  earth,  which  wonderful  nature  herself  has  erected,  and 
so  magnificently  decorated.  It  will  excite,  and  is  deserving 
of  your  admiration." 

Saying  this,  she  took  off  her  straw  bonnet,  and  wound  a 
shawl  in  the  form  of  a  turban  round  her  head.  She  then 
hid  her  bonnet  and  his  hat,  with  the  basket,  in  the  bushes 
not  far  from  the  cave,  and  returned  to  light  her  lantern.  In 
her  scarlet  turban,  from  under  which  several  stray  tresses 
fell  in  golden  ringlets  around  her  temples,  and  down  on  her 
shoulders,  she  resembled  an  ancient  fabled  enchantress. 
The  innocence  and  the  fearlessness  with  which  she  pre- 
pared to  take  a  walk  of  terror,  gave  her  the  appearance  of 
one  who  holds  communion  with  supernatural  powers. 

She  soon  had  lighted  her  lantern,  which  she  fixed  to  the 
extremity  of  her  staff. 

"  Now  then,"  said  Hermione,  with  a  graceful  inclination 
of  her  head,  pointing  at  the  same  time  to  a  low  aperture  in 
the  rock,  "  have  you  courage  ?    The  mouth  of  the  cave  is 


100  FLOR1AX  : 

p 

narrow,  and  difficiuV'of  entrance  ;  but  when  once  we  are 
through  it,  there-ts  no  longer  any  difficulty  ;  for  immediately 
after  the  opeliing,  it  suddenly  becomes  very  wide." 

She  spread  a  handkerchief  on  the  ground,  that  in  creeping 
through  the  opening  they  might  not  soil  their  garments. 
She  then  motioned  him  to  enter.  He  stood  still  for  some 
moments,  looking  at  her  in  silence,  as  she  pushed  the 
lantern  with  the  staff,  into  the  interior  of  the  cave.  He 
then  crept  through  the  opening,  which  soon  became  so 
large  as  to  permit  his  standing  upright.  It  was  not  long 
before,  also,  the  head  with  the  red  turban  appearedi>eneath 
the  rocks.  This  dream-like  spectacle  made  his  heart 
tremble  within  him,  he  knelt  down  and  assisted  his  delicate 
and  courageous  companion  to  rise  ;  when  immediately 
afterwards  the  golden  rays  of  daylight  poured  through  the 
opening. 

She  took  her  staff  for  a  support,  while  he  proceeded  in 
advance  of  her,  lighting  the  way  with  the  lantern.  The 
rocks  split  into  several  dark  passages.  A  death-like  still- 
ness reigned  within.  Now  and  then,  the  falling  of  drops  of 
water  could  be  heard.  A  dark  vault,  the  end  of  which  they 
could  not  discern  by  the  faint  light  of  the  lantern,  rounded 
above  their  heads.  Only  a  few  white  and  yellow  cliffs, 
appeared  like  spectral  images  in  the  dark.  Fantastic 
shapes  of  pillars  and  ornaments  of  stalactites,  could  be 
discerned  in  the  distance.  They  seemed  to  move,  to 
advance,  and  to  vanish,  as  the  lights  and  shades  varied  by 
every  step  they  took ;  and  thus  caused  new  forms  to  arise 
and  disappear. 

The  farther  they  penetrated  into  the  cave,  the  more 
wonderful  was  the  appearance  that  the  subterraneous  world 
assumed.  The  passage  in  which  they  were  walking  seem- 
ed endless,  and  sometimes  it  became  very  spacious,  then 
narrow,  and  often  it  resembled  the  halls  of  a  convent, 


THE   FUGITIVE   OP  THE  JURA. 


101 


adorned  with  costly  white  carpets  and  beautiful  carvings. 
One  could  walk  safely  in  any  place,  for  George  Stafford 
had  cleared  away  many  obstructions,  and  had  caused 
boards  to  be  thrown  over  the  otherwise  impassable  places. 
After  they  had  proceeded  some  distance  beneath  the  rocky 
vault,  Florian  suddenly  remained  standing,  and  looked  at 
his  fair  companion,  who  was  following  him,  without  show- 
ing the  least  symptom  of  alarm.  She  smiled  very  benign- 
ly at  him,  without  saying  a  word.  "  Is  it  possible," — said 
Florian — "  that  you  should  venture  here  entirely  alone  ? 
Wonderful  and  magnificent  as  is  this  gigantic  structure  of 
nature,  it  arouses  within  me  feelings  of  silent  awe." 

"  I  experience  this  awe  every  time  I  am  here  " — said 
Hermione — "  but  I  love  the  sensation.  However,  I  cannot 
deny,  that  on  my  first  visit  here  I  trembled,  although 
George  and  Claudine  were  with  me.  Since  then,  I  have 
been  accustomed  to  this  subterranean  world,  and  am  now 
perfectly  familiar  with  every  object  that  appears  in  it.  We 
shall  soon  reach  the  end  of  it,  and  I  am  sure  it  will  greatly 
surprise  you.  The  whole  passage  is  said  to  be  three  hun- 
dred feet  in  length.    A  little  farther  on,  Monsieur  Florian." 

"  After  he  had  gone  a  little  farther,  a  golden  ray  of 
light,  proceeding  from  the  back-ground,  flashed  suddenly 
on  his  vision.  He  stood  still  in  amazement,  but  as  he  pro- 
ceeded, the  splendour  by  which  he  was  surrounded  nearly 
blinded  his  eyes. 

"  Enchantment !" — cried  he  in  ecstacy — "  Where  am  I? 
I  see  a  light  like  the  light  of  day  ;  I  see  in  the  midst  of  this 
cavern,  clouds,  sailing  on  the  bosom  of  the  air ;  and  I  see 
immense  distances,  and  valleys,  and  forests,  and  moun- 
tains !  Oh !  most  wonderful  spectacle  !  Mademoiselle 
Delory,  I  must  needs  believe  now  in  sorcery.  Here  must 
be  other  fairies  beside  yourself!  " 

Hermione  rejoiced  silently  at  the  delirium  of  delight 


102 


FLORIAN  : 


with  which  he  was  seized,  when,  on  arriving  at  the  end  of 
the  cave,  the  most  picturesque  scenery  burst  upon  his  as- 
tonished vision.  She  leaned  opposite  to  him  against  a  pro- 
jection of  the  rock,  and  described  to  him  the  scene  before 
them. 

"Below  there,  in  the  valley,  you  behold  a  different 
world,"  said  Hermione.  "  It  is  Val-Sainte-Croix.  All 
those  little  brown  cottages,  resting  so  familiarly  and  yet  so 
solemnly  upon  those  hiils,  belong  to  the  villages  St.  Croix, 
and  La  Braconne.  To  the  left,  rises  La  Roche  Blanche 
with  its  rocks  ;  and  to  your  right,  you  behold  l'Aiguille  de 
Beaume.  Far  in  the  distance,  you  can  just  perceive  the 
antique  town  of  Granson,  on  the  lake,  celebrated  by  the 
defeat  which  Charles  the  Bold  there  sustained.  But  the 
highlands  before  us  conceal  from  our  view  the  charming 
Pays  de  Vaud  that  lies  beneath  our  feet." 

She  continued  for  some  time  to  explain  those  charming 
landscapes.  Florian,  on  casting  his  eye  into  the  verdant 
depths  below,  saw  the  peaceful  dwellings  of  the  people, 
and  their  herds  on  the  mountain-side,  and  the  Alps  in  the 
far  distance  ;  and,  on  turning  round,  when  he  looked  into 
the  darkness  of  the  cave,  he  saw  in  this  wonderful  and  si- 
lent solitude,  Hermione  standing  beside  him,  leaning  grace- 
fully with  one  arm  against  the  rock,  while  grass-blades, 
and  hanging  shrubs,  were  playing  around  and  above  her 
turbaned  head,  casting  a  mysterious  shade  over  all  her 
features. 

Hermione's  eyes  were  resting  upon  him.  She  under- 
stood and  respected  the  emotions  of  his  heart,  and  kept 
silence. 

At  length,  after  having  indulged  in  a  long  fit  of  meditation, 
in  which  he  forgot  himself  arid  every  surrounding  object,  he 
turned  again  to  Hermione  ;  a  tear  unknown  to  him  glis- 
tened in  his  eye,  and  the  smile  with  which  he  greeted  the 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


103 


silent  maiden,  became  touchingly  expressive.  He  then 
pressed  both  his  hands  firmly  to  his  heart,  as  if  to  repress 
its  violent  pulsations,  and  said — "  Oh  !  Mademoiselle  De- 
lory,  you  intended  only  to  surprise  me,  but  you  have  coupled 
a  paradise  with  my  existence.  Never  shall  I  forget  the 
Fairies'  Temple,  but  while  I  live,  shall  remember  it  with 
grave  and  solemn  feelings." 

She  cast  her  eyes  to  the  ground,  and  seemed  to  muse  on 
what  he  had  said.  After  a  short  pause,  he  continued — 
"  How  little  is  required  to  make  this  life  happy !  I  have 
decided  upon  my  future  course.  My  country  has  been 
made  miserable  through  corruption  of  morals,  through  the 
ignorance  and  rudeness  of  the  people,  and  through  the 
avarice,  ambition,  and  vindictive  passions  of  its  chiefs. 
God  has  visited  the  land  ;  he  arouses  the  people  from  their 
torpor  and  enervation.  At  present  there  are  two  parties 
among  us — one  for  Austria,  the  other  for  France.  Both 
are  ruinous  to  the  country.  I  can  save  nothing.  Were  I 
even  to  sacrifice  my  life  for  the  benefit  of  my  native  land,  it 
would  avail  nothing.  I  may  not  be  the  servant  "of  either 
party,  and  were  I  to  step  as  mediator  between  them,  they 
would  both  persecute  me.  I  go  and  seek  a  beautiful  soli- 
tude. Thanks  to  you,  lovely  Hermione,  for  you  have  given 
me  to  myself  again.  Your  Faries'  Temple  has  affected 
me  with  its  magic  power,  and  you  are  the  beneficent  fairy 
in  it." 

"  Call  me  not  by  that  name  " — said  Hermione — "  the 
great  fairy  is  Nature,  divinely  stamped,  and  incomprehen- 
sible !  " 

"Well  do  I  know,  Mademoiselle  Delory" — replied 
Florian — "that  your  thoughts  take  a  more  exalted  flight 
than  mine  ;  and  you  are  also  more  pious  than  I  ;  for,  weak 
man  that  I  am,  I  am  only  like  a  heathen." 

"  Oh  !  my  friend  " — rejoined  the  fair  enthusiast — "every 


104 


FLORIAN  I 


blade  of  grass  is  a  representative  of  nature  ;  and  every  lit- 
tle spot  large  enough  to  kneel  down  on,  is  an  altar  at 
which  we  may  worship  the  majesty  of  the  Omnipotent. 
Life  is  a  beautiful  and  endless  mystery.  I  meditate  upon 
it,  and  would  greatly  like  to  solve  it,  but  cannot,  since  I 
cannot  penetrate  to  that  God  who  is  himself  the  essential 
glory  and  life." 

"  Your  words  are  dark  " — remarked  the  Grison — "  like 
those  of  the  priestess  of  Delphos.  But  I  understand  you, 
lovely  priestess,  by  the  sound  of  your  voice,  and  the  ex- 
pression of  your  features,  for  your  eyes  reflect  your  in- 
ward soul.    All  is  speech  !  " 

Hermione  threw  a  doubtful  glance  at  Florian,  as  if  she 
feared  he  was  mocking  her.  But  his  enthusiasm  was  so 
honest,  that,  after  a  brief  pause,  she  said  kindly — "  I  have 
long  since  been  able  to  explain  to  myself  that  souls  have  a 
language  of  their  own ;  without  words,  without  sounds, 
without  sight.  Yes,  there  is  a  secret  efficacy  of  souls,  I 
know  not  how,  but  I  believe  it  is  through  the  will,  and 
through  a  certainty  of  the  result  of  the  will." 

"  Oh,  Mademoiselle  Delory  " — replied  Florian — "  if  the 
power  of  will  was  merely  necessary,  my  soul  would  have 
told  you  already,  a  great  deal  in  this  mysterious  language. 
You  cannot  have  conceived  it.  Teach  me  the  art  to  speak 
with  your  tongue,  and  with  it,  give  me  that  wonderful  power 
over  your  soul,  which,  from  the  first  day  I  saw  you,  you  - 
have  exercised  over  mine,  Hermione  !  Since  that  day,  at 
the  foot  of  the  Calanda,  when  my  life  mingled  with  yours, 
as  the  waters  of  those  two  streams  ran  into  one." 

His  voice  trembled,  as  he  said  this  ;  and  his  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  ground.  When  he  raised  them,  Hermione 
stood  before  him,  with  her  face  suffused  with  crimson  ;  but 
her  seriousness  and  her  peculiar  dignity  returned  just  as 
soon.     "  Come,  Monsieur  Florian, — she  added — "  let  us 


TIIE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


103 


return  by  the  way  we  came.  I  know  not  whether  you 
wish  to  amuse  yourself  with  my  views,  or  whether  you  are 
serious  in  what  you  say.  At  any  rate,  I  should  have  felt 
obliged  to  you,  had  you  not  interpreted  my  harmless  con- 
versation in  the  manner  you  have  done." 

"  Pardon  me,  Mademoiselle  Delory  " — replied  Florian — 
"  it  is  out  of  my  power  to  show  you  greater  respect.  I 
should  have  kept  silent,  had  not  the  hour  and  the  wonders 
of  the  fairy  temple  effected  a  great  revolution  in  all  my 
resolves  and  plans." 

"  Do  you  then,  indeed,  wish  to  make  me  believe  " — asked 
Hermione — "  that  you  have  been  changed  through  the  se- 
cret power  of  this  place  1 " 

"  Through  every  thing  " — was  the  fugitive's  hasty  re- 
sponse— "perhaps  through  the  dream ;  through  your  appear- 
ing ;  through  the  solemnity  of  this  subterranean  world  ; 
through  the  aspect  of  the  peaceful  valley  at  our  feet ;  through 
your  standing  in  all  your  loveliness,  between  these  cold,  gi- 
gantic rocks  ;  through — ah  !  who  can  unfold  all  that  attunes 
our  souls,  and  decides  the  will  of  the  mind  ?  Enough — my 
resolve  is  this — to  live  alone  and  secluded  in  some  solitude. 
It  is  irrevocable.  When  I  revealed  this  to  you,  I  could 
not  conceal  the  other  secret  that  agitates  my  bosom." 

He  ceased.  •  The  lantern  was  again  lighted,  and  she  held 
it  out  to  him,  with  a  look  in  which  sadness  strangely  min- 
gled with  friendliness.  When  he  touched  her  hand  it  trem- 
bled  in  his.  They  turned  silently  into  the  darkness  of  the 
subterranean  temple. 


(3 


106 


FLORIAN  : 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

The  Adventure  in  the  Fairies'  Temple. 

Florian  and  Hermione  slowly  and  silently  pursued  their 
sparsely-illuminated  way ;  Hermione  still  reflecting  on  the 
last  words  her  companion  had  spoken.  His  sudden  and 
continued  silence  grieved  her  ;  for  although  he  carried  the 
lantern  before  her,  so  that  she  might  not  miss  her  foothold, 
and  though  he  sometimes  looked  back  for  her,  yet  he  moved 
along  without  uttering  a  word  of  caution,  or  offering  her 
any  friendly  assistance,  as  he  had  done  when  they  first 
walked  through  the  cave. 

When  they  had  arrived  in  the  middle  of  the  fairies' 
temple,  and  both  had  passed  through  the  cave  without  pay- 
ing any  attention  to  the  images  and  beautiful  adornments, 
Hermione  suddenly  stood  still.  His  silence  became  intol- 
erable to  her.  She  felt  that  no  misunderstanding  ought  to 
exist  between  them.  She  had  not  wished  to  offend  the 
man  who  in  that  hour  had  filled  her  with  renewed  admira- 
tion and  respect,  and  when  he  looked  round,  she  held  out 
her  hand  to  him,  and  said — "  Are  you  going  to  be  angry 
with  me  ?  " 

He  took  the  proffered  hand,  shook  his  bead  negatively, 
and  walked  on  ;  for  he  could  not  speak.  Her  tone  of  voice, 
which  said  infinitely  more  than  her  language,  had  thrilled 
through  every  fibre  of  his  heart. 

After  having  proceeded  a  little  farther,  Hermione  stopped 
once  more,  and  said — "  Just  in  this  place  the  fairies'  tem- 
ple abounds  with  all  kinds  of  images.  Only  look  around 
you  for  a  moment.  We  are  surrounded  by  petrified  giants, 
dwarfs,  snakes,  and  other  monsters." 

Florian  held  the  light  in  all  directions.  Every  change 
of  light  metamorphosed  also  the  confused  forms  of  the  im- 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


107 


agcry.  He  then  held  the  light  above  his  head  towards  the 
ceiling,  and  perceived  a  huge  block  of  stone  above  their 
heads,  apparently  detached  from  the  others,  or  only  in  a 
very  few  places  united  with  them,  so  that  it  seemed  ready 
to  fall  at  any  moment. 

"  Come,  come  into  the  open  air !  " — said  Hermione— 
"  our  voices  and  the  vibration  of  the  air  might  cast  this  rock 
from  off  its  fastenings,  and  bury  us  both  beneath  it." 

"I  could  not  wish  for  a  more  magnificent  grave" — said 
Florian. 

"  You  must  not  yet  count  yourself" — returned  Hermione 
— "  as  one  of  the  number  of  those  who  are  weary  of  their 
life." 

"On  the  contrary,  from  to-day" — said  the  Grison — "I 
may  count  myself  among  the  number  of  those  who  rejoice 
in  their  lives." 

"Never  mind  that  now,  Monsieur  Florian" — she  rejoin- 
ed— let  us  fly  !  I  am  beginning  to  fear  lest  the  mountain 
might  take  you  at  your  word." 

"  Does  Hermione  shrink  from  the  possibility  of  death  ?  " 
asked  Florian. 

"  Ah  !  but  I  have  still  a  father  whom  I  dearly  love  " — 
answered  the  lady — "  although  he  is  but  my  step-father, 
and  I  have  not  seen  him  so  long !  Hereafter  I  shall  go 
with  joyful  heart  to  my  right  father,  and  to  my  ardently- 
loved  and  sainted  mother." 

"Should  the  stone  fall" — said  the  fugitive — "my  dream 
would  be  fulfilled,  Hermione.  Then  the  serpent  which 
was  entwined  around  both  of  us  would  have  found  an  inter- 
pretation.   Eternity  would  unite  us  both." 

"  Away — away !  " — she  cried  with  alarm — "  let  us  has- 
ten into  the  open  air  !  Incredulous  man  !  Why  would  you 
begin  just  now  to  believe  in  your  ominous  dream  ?  " 

She  had  scarcely  given  utterance  to  these  words  when  a 


108 


FLORIAN  : 


loud  clap  of  thunder  apparently  reverberated  through  the 
cave.  It  was  succeeded  by  a  rattling  of  falling  stone.  A 
rush  of  air  extinguished  the  lantern.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
whole  cave  were  shaking.  The  echo  resounded  fearfully 
through  the  hollow  mountain.  Hermione  at  the  same  mo- 
ment  gave  a  piercing  shriek.  Florian  dashed  the  lantern 
to  the  ground,  and  felt  with  both  his  hands  for  his  compan- 
ion. She  came  tottering  towards  him,  and  fell  into  his 
arms. 

"  Speak,  dearest  mademoiselle  ;  are  you  hurt  ? "  asked 
Florian. 

"For  heaven's  sake" — replied  Hermione — "what  has 
happened  1  Are  we  buried  alive  ?  The  rocks  must  surely 
have  fallen !" 

"  Tranquillize  yourself,  dear  mademoiselle" — said  the  Gri- 
son — "  there  can  be  no  danger  here.  If  the  entrance  of  the 
cave  is  closed,  I  can  return  and  climb  over  the  rocks,  down 
into  the  Val  de  Sainte  Croix,  and  bring  you  assistance." 

"  There  is  no  path  leading  over  those  steep  rocky  walls" 
—rejoined  the  damsel — "  you  would  never  reach  the  bot- 
tom and  live.  Oh,  Monsieur  Florian,  prepare  yourself  for 
the  worst,  for  we  are  both  lost ! " 

"I  pray  you  not  to  give  yourself  up  to  despair" — rejoin- 
ed the  Grison. — "  When  you  have  somewhat  recovered  from 
your  first  fright,  I  will  find  a  way  by  which  we  may  get 
out.  Fear  nothing,  for  I  am  with  you,  and  with  both  of  us 
is  the  all-powerful  and  ever-merciful  Protector." 

Some  time  elapsed  before  Mademoiselle  Delory  could 
compose  herself.  But  Florian  spoke  self-possessed,  and  with 
so  much  confidence  that  there  was  no  danger,  that  he  demon- 
strated to  her  clearly,  that  the  fall  of  a  stone  of  even  mod- 
erate size  might  create  a  noise  like  thunder,  when  echoing 
through  the  many  serpentine  passages  of  that  subterranean 
temple.    He  also  made  it  appear  probable  that  the  fall  of 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


109 


the  stone  which  they  had  heard  had  not  been  in  the  prin- 
cipal passage,  but  in  one  of  the  side-vaults,  which  they  had 
seen  on  their  entering  the  fairies'  temple.  He  even 
proved  to  her,  by  the  fresh  current  of  air  which  they  in- 
haled, that  the  entrance  of  the  cave  could  not  be  far  off, 
and  that  the  passage  could  not  be  obstructed.  All  this  he 
did  so  calmly  and  so  persuasively,  that  Hermione  again  be- 
gan to  summon  courage. 

"  But  how  shall  we  plod  our  way  back  in  this  dark- 
ness?"— she  said — "I  have  lost  the  little  tinder-box  and 
my  staff.  We  may  lose  the  boarded  way  beneath  our  feet, 
make  a  mis-step,  and  perish  !  " 

Florian  spoke  comfort  also  in  regard  to  this  doubt — but 
he  was  far  from  experiencing  that  ease  of  mind  to  which 
he  pretended.  By  no  other  means  could  he  account  for 
that  first  terrific  clap,  than  by  attributing  it  to  the  noise  oc- 
casioned by  the  falling  of  a  huge  mass  of  stone,  which 
might,  perhaps,  have  stopped  up  every  mode  of  egress. 
Therefore  he  requested  Hermione  to  remain  for  a  little 
while  alone  ;  while  he  attempted  to  find  the  remote  aper- 
ture by  which  they  had  entered.  But  when  he  was  about 
to  leave  her,  she  placed  her  arm  in  his,  and  with  a  timor- 
ous shriek,  conjured  him  with  tears  not  to  leave  her. 

Once  more  he  endeavoured  to  silence  her  apprehensions 
with  all  the  eloquence  that  affectionate  tenderness  could 
furnish.  "  Why  should  you  anticipate  the  worst  1 " — he 
said. — "Abandon  every  sensation  of  fear.  We  are  not 
lost ;  and  should  I  be  compelled  to  force  my  way  through 
all  these  rocks  to  bring  you  to  the  light  of  day,  I  will  do  it." 

"  Oh,  do  not  leave  me,  Florian  ! " — she  said,  weeping — 
"  I  know  that  our  mutual  destiny  is  fulfilled  ;  but  I  did  not 
think  the  sad  day  was  so  close  at  hand.  It  was  intended 
that  we  should,  and  we  surely  shall  perish  together.  Do 
not  delude  yourself  and  me  with  vain  hopes  of  being  saved  ! 


110 


FLORIAN  .* 


The  prophecy  is  accomplished ;  it  has  been  fulfilled  in  the 
same  terrible  spot  where  I  received  it.  It  was  in  this  very 
place  where  we  now  are  standing  that  Mother  Morne  warn- 
ed me  to  avoid  seeing  you  ;  for  I  should  draw  you  and  my- 
self into  a  fearful  abyss," 

"  How  !  Mother  Morne  1 " — cried  Florian,  in  incredulous 
surprise. — "  Can  the  words  of  that  old  fanatical  woman  rob 
you  of  your  presence  of  mind,  and  self-composure  ?  Can 
they  prevail  upon  you  more  than  all  the  reasonings  and  pray- 
ers of  a  man  who  is  prepared  to  suffer  anything  for  you?" 

"  But  the  words  of  that  mad  prophetess  are  fulfilled,  in 
spite  of  what  your  reason  and  courage  may  allege  against 
it.  O,  unhappy  Florian  !  your  dream  has  been  fulfilled. 
This  darkness  in  which  we  are  enveloped,  is  the  serpent  of 
your  prophetic  dream,  that  unites  us.  Alas  !  that  I  was 
destined  to  throw  the  ribbon  around  you,  and  allure,  and 
lead  you  with  myself  into  this  our  mutual  grave  !  Poor 
Florian  !  That  I  should  become  your  murderess  I  could 
never  have  divined." 

"  You  are  not  my  murderess,  Hermione,  and  you  never 
will  be  !  " — replied  the  Grison. 

"  Alas  !  three  times  did  old  Morne  warn  me  to  shun  you, 
and  only  you  !  " — answered  the  lady. — "  I  have  obeyed  the 
warning  as  far  as  was  in  my  power.  I  trembled  whenever 
my  eyes  beheld  you  ;  and  though  it  was  the  will  of  fate  that 
we  should  meet,  I  have  never  approached  you  without  feel- 
ing a  shudder  creep  over  me.  Oh  !  old  Morne  was  not  in 
error,  when  she  predicted  that  I  should  draw  you  and 
myself  into  the  abyss  of  destruction.  Now,  her  prophecy 
is  fulfilled,  and  I  have  enticed  you  into  it.  Now  my  secret 
terror  is  ended  !  now  the  mysterious  riddle  is  solved  !  I  am 
to  meet  my  death  with  you. — Then  leave  me  not,  Florian, 
and  I  shall  be  resigned  to  my  fate  !  " 

She  spoke  in  a  gentle,  but  firm  and  distinct  tone  of 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


Ill 


voice,  and  her  arm  held  him,  as  if  nothing  should  tear  her 
from  him  in  her  last  hour.  Florian's  breast  heaved  convul- 
sively, agitated  by  his  contending  feelings.  Hermione's 
words  sounded  like  the  utterings  of  a  maniac  ;  and  yet  they 
breathed  the  sweetest  music.  Painful  sorrow,  at  her  de- 
spondency, agitated  him  ;  but  in  the  midst  of  the  surround- 
ing terrors  of  death,  his  heart  thrilled  with  delight. 

"  Hermione  " — said  he — "  why  should  we  despair,  before 
we  have  any  certainty  that  we  are  lost  ?  Give  me  your 
hand.  Put  your  trust  in  God,  rather  than  give  credence  to 
the  ravings  of  Mother  Morne,  and  the  delusions  of  a 
dream." 

"  We  are  buried  alive  here  " — she  exclaimed — "  and  no 
one  in  the  world  is  apprised  of  our  being  in  the  interior  of 
this  mountain." 

"  Then  let  us  grope  our  way  back  to  the  opening,  towards 
Val  de  St.  Croix  " — replied  the  fugitive. — "  I  will  raise  my 
voice,  so  that  it  may  be  hea  rd  for  miles." 

"I  obey  you" — meekly  responded  his  companion. — 
"  Lead  me  whither  you  list,  for  our  destiny  so  wills  it." 

"  If  my  promise  to  bring  you  safely  out  of  this  danger 
shall  be  fulfilled  " — asked  Florian — "  will  you  then,  Her- 
mione, trust  more  to  me  than  to  vain  dreams  and  pro- 
phecies ?  " 

"  I  cannot  do  otherwise  " — replied  Mademoiselle  Delory. 
— "  Fate  has  placed  me  entirely  at  your  disposal ;  and  I 
have  no  longer  any  power  over  myself." 

He  once  more  drew  her  towards  him  ;  and  holding  Her- 
mione's hand,  he  said, — "Take  courage,  and  follow  me." 

He  walked  slowly  through  the  darkness,  at  every  step 
examining  the  path  with  his  hand,  that  Hermione,  who  fol- 
lowed him,  trembling  with  fear,  might  not  mistake  her 
foot-hold.  It  was  a  difficult  and  dangerous  course,  and  ren- 
dered more  so  by  the  terror  which  they  mutually  experi- 


112 


FLORIAN  : 


enced.  They  had  thus  proceeded  for  a  short  time,  when 
Hermione  exclaimed,  timidly — "  Fiorian,  what  is  this  1  I 
breathe  the  vapour  of  sulphur." 

Fiorian,  who  considered  this  a  new  freak  of  her  excited 
imagination,  encouraged  her  by  whispering  words  of  con- 
solation, while  he  still  continued  on  his  way.  But  he  had 
not  gone  far,  when  the  smell  of  sulphur  came  towards  him 
also,  which  grew  stronger  as  they  advanced. 

"  As  true  as  I  live,  this  is  powder  !  " — he  exclaimed. — 
"  I  cannot  comprehend  whence  it  proceeds.  This  is  neither 
caused  by  an  earthquake,  nor  by  a  subterranean  fire." 

"  Let  us  not  deceive  ourselves  with  vain  and  incredible 
hopes,"  ejaculated  Hermione. 

As  they  proceeded,  when  Fiorian  was  bent  down  to  feel 
whether  they  were  still  walking  on  secure  ground,  he  sud- 
denly exclaimed,  "  I  see  daylight !  you  are  safe  !  " 

Hermione  strained  her  eyes  to  discover  the  gleam  of  day- 
light, through  the  impenetrable  darkness,  but  alas  !  without 
effect.  He  drew  the  trembler  quickly  after  him ;  and  as 
they  stepped  out  of  the  side-walk  into  the  principal  pas- 
sage, they  suddenly  perceived  the  light  of  day,  pouring 
through  the  aperture  of  the  rock. 

"  We  are  saved !  "  cried  Hermione  ;  and  she  stood  mo- 
tionless, with  uplifted  arms  and  fixed  eyes,  as  if  she  had 
been  changed  into  a  statue.  Fiorian  turned  towards  her 
with  delight ;  but  suddenly  her  colour  changed  to  an  ashy 
paleness,  and  her  features  became  rigid.  A  violent  pain 
seemed  to  thrill  through  her  whole  frame.  Her  arms  fell 
powerless  to  her  side,  and  her  head  drooped  upon  her 
bosom.  Fiorian,  as  he  held  her  in  his  arms,  became  ex- 
cessively alarmed.  She  seemed  to  be  gasping  for  fresh 
air,  as  if  struggling  between  life  and  death.  She  stared 
anxiously,  and  with  a  dry  eye  at  Fiorian,  until  her  convul- 
sions broke  out  in  violent  weeping  and  sobbing.   She  then 


TIIE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA.  113 

recovered  by  degrees ;  and  amid  a  flood  of  tears,  the 
red  began  slowly  to  rise  upon  the  ashy  paleness  of  her 
cheeks. 

As  soon  as  she  had  gained  sufficient  strength,  she  disen- 
gaged herself  from  the  young  man,  and  buried  her  face  in 
her  handkerchief.  But  when,  on  looking  up,  she  beheld 
Florian  standing  before  her,  pale  and  speechless,  and  in 
anxious  solicitude  about  her,  she  smiled  upon  him,  and 
extending  her  hand,  she  said  with  a  look  and  tone  of  the 
purest  kindness,  "  Good  Florian,  what  have  you  not  suffered 
on  my  account  ?  Forgive  me  ! — I  know  myself  no  longer," 
said  Hermione,  as  she  disengaged  herself  from  him.  Then 
she  offered  again  her  hand  to  him,  and  said,  "  Ah !  my 
friend,  do  not  mistake  me  ;  leave  me  not,  I  pray  you.  You 
now  know  that  my  life  is  mingled  with  yours  ;  why  should 
I  deny  it?    I  am  no  longer  mine  own." 

They  walked  to  the  outlet  of  the  dairies'  temple.  A 
paler  light  poured  through  the  opening,  and  when  they 
both  stood  again  without  the  cave,  they  inhaled  silently  the 
pure  refreshful  evening  air. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  Carp. 

The  sun  had  already  sunk  to  the  horizon  behind  thd 
summit  of  Le  Gros-Taureau.  A  soft  light  was  spread  over 
the  valleys,  while  the  bright  reflection  of  an  evening  red 
tinged  the  mountain  peaks.  Birds  and  illuminated  clouds 
sailed  in  the  air.  From  the  scattered  cottages,  in  the  ver- 
dant valleys  below,  rose  graceful  columns  of  smoke,  as  if 
ascending  from  the  altars  of  the  ancient  devotees.  Florian 
and  Hermione  thought  they  had  never  seen  the  world  more 
6* 


114 


FLOKIAtt  I 


beautiful.  Every  object  which  their  eyes  rested  upon,  was 
more  spiritual,  more  pure,  and  more  brilliant. 

Hermione  folded  her  hands,  and  raised  her  eyes  towards 
heaven,  with  an  expresson  of  heartfelt  gratitude  ;  then  she 
turned  again  with  affecting  confusion  to  Florian,  while  her 
flushed  cheeks  were  made  more  radiant  by  her  sweet 
smiles.  Indeed,  there  was  nothing  in  the  world  more  beau- 
tiful than  her  bashfulness  and  pure  confidence.  He  also 
stood  there,  in  the  grace  and  the  manliness  of  his  fine  pro- 
portions and  features,  heightened  by  his  silent  reflections  ; 
while  inward  beatitude  shone  out  of  the  dark  blue  of  his 
lustrous  eyes. 

A  loud  voice  suddenly  interrupted  their  contemplations, 
shouting,  "  O,  ho  !  there  I  find  you,  just  in  the  right  time. 
Good  evening,  good  evening  !  " 

Professor  Onyx  instantly  appeared,  ascending  the  moun- 
tain-path from  the  neighbouring  village,  Le  Cret.  "  Truly," 
said  he,  "  ill  luck  attends  me  wherever  I  go.  Here  I  must 
find  you,  Mademoiselle,  quite  unexpectedly,  without  being 
able  to  offer  you  one  of  your  sweet  little  namesakes,  one 
of  my  hermiones.  Yesterday  evening  I  culled  a  whole 
bouquet  of  them  at  the  rock  of  Buttos,  and  brought  it  to  Le 
Cret ;  but  it  was  too  late  to  present  them  to  you,  and  con- 
sequently I  placed  them  very  carefully  in  water.  But,  be- 
hold !  a  goat  went  to  the  place  where  they  were  standing, 
and  ate  them  all.  My  loss,  however,  was  not  without  its 
advantage  ;  for  by  it  I  learned  that  the  hermiones  were  an 
excellent  food  for  cattle.  The  little  Etienne  soon  after- 
wards milked  the  rapacious  animal,  and  I  bought  the  milk. 
We  will  all  taste  it,  for  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that 
the  hermiones  will  impart  to  it  a  most  delicious  aromatic 
flavour.    We  must  taste  it." 

Mademoiselle  Delory  smiled  at  the  man  of  science,  and 
said — "  It  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  be  your  guest, 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


115 


professor ;  but  below  there  I  have  certainly  been  long  since 
expected.  If  to-morrow,  however,  you  will  bring  me  a 
bouquet  of  your  flowers   

"  Oh,  I  promise  you  whole  garlands  of  them,  beautiful 
Mademoiselle,"  cried  the  professor  ;  "  this  morning  I  have 
seen  hundreds  of  them  blooming  in  the  shade  of  a  block  of 
granite."  Then  turning  to  Florian,  he  cried, — "  Friend  of 
my  soul,  you  must  see  this  block  of  granite,  you  must,  in- 
deed !  It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to  my  explaining  the 
appearance  of  my  original  mountain  foundlings  on  the 
heights  of  the  Jura.  It  is  an  eloquent,  incontrovertible 
proof  that  it  was  brought  hither,  like  the  others,  by  the 
masses  of  ice  coming  from  the  tops  of  the  mountains,  when 
all  this  was  still  a  'tohu  vabohu,'  an  infinite  chaos.  Above 
and  below  and  on  all  the  edges  it  is  rounded,  caused  of 
course  by  friction  ;  while  the  middle,  as  far  as  it  was  sur- 
rounded by  ice,  you  will  perceive  is  unharmed,  sharp-edged, 
and  well  cut." 

While  the  professor  continued  to  develop  his  observations 
to  Florian,  Hermione  took  the  red  shawl  from  off  her  fore- 
head, and  returned  to  the  entrance  of  the  fairies,  temple, 
where  she  had  concealed  her  bonnet  and  basket.  When 
Onyx  observed  that  she  had  left  them,  he  broke  off  his 
discourse  abruptly,  and  said, — "  Come,  come,  Monsieur 

 ,  dear  me,  I  shall  never  remember  your  name  as 

long  as  I  live — come  to  the  fairies'  temple  ;  there  I  shall 
prepare  a  feast  for  you.  It  is  still  light  enough.  You  will 
be  astonished.  You  are  a  connoisseur."  Saying  this,  he 
led  Florian,  who  was  lost  in  a  deep  reverie,  and  who  con- 
sequently had  not  heard  one  word  of  his  eloquent  discourse, 
to  the  entrance  of  the  cave. 

"  What  do  you  intend  doing,  professor  ?  "  asked  Florian, 
when  he  was  standing  before  the  aperture. 

"  I  cannot  promise  anything  before  hand,"  replied  the 


116 


FLORIAN  : 


philosopher.  Who  knows  how  the  vein  of  the  rock  runs  ] 
I  cannot  be  certain  of  anything,  excepting  that  the  hole  was 
bored  well  and  deep  enough." 

"  How  !  what !  have  you  blasted  the  rock  with  powder? " 
asked  the  fugitive. 

"Friend  of  my  soul,  I  have  indeed,"  answered  the 
geologist. 

"  Here  !  in  the  fairies'  temple  ? "  exclaimed  Florian  ;  as 
light  regarding  the  late  mystery  flashed  across  his  mind. 

"  Ah,  see  there  !  have  I  been  ahead  of  you  1  "  exclaimed 
the  professor.  "  Perhaps,  you  had  the  same  project  in  view !  " 

"  So  it  was  really  you,  professor,  who  blasted  the  rock  1 " 
inquired  Florian. 

"  Who  else  should  have  done  it  ?  For  six  hours  I  was 
engaged  in  boring  it.  Meanwhile  that  accursed  goat  ate 
up  all  my  hermiones.  I  walked  into  the  cottage  to  bring 
the  necessary  materials  for  firing  the  rock  ;  when  the  rage 
I  experienced  at  the  goat  detained  me  longer  than  I  had 
anticipated,  so  that  I  did  not  set  fire  to  the  match  until  half 
an  hour  since.  It  was  a  dangerous  business  ;  but  I  was 
out  of  the  cavern  with  the  swiftness  of  a  lightning's  flash, 
and  I  had  scarcely  time  to  get  out  of  it  when,  bang  !  I 
heard  the  most  glorious  crash  that  ever  greeted  my  ears." 

"  May  Satan,  Moloch,  and  Belial,  thank  you  for  it,  pro- 
fessor ;"  roared  out  the  Grison,  "  for  by  that  nice  operation 
of  yours,  the  lives  of  two  human  beings  were  nearly  lost." 

"  Why,  there  was  not  a  living  soul  far  or  near,"  said 
Professor  Onyx. 

"  Mademoiselle  Delory  and  myself,  were  at  that 
same  moment  within  the  fairies'  temple  ; "  replied 
Florian. 

"  How  !  have  you  just  now  come  out  of  it  ?  "  inquired 
Onyx  ;  "  was  the  smoke  occasioned  by  the  powder  dis- 
sipated ?    It  does  not  generally  evaporate  among  these 


THE  FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


117 


rocks  so  quickly ;  for  I  myself  was  once  very  nearly  suffocated 
by  it,  it  pressed  so  hard  upon  my  lungs." 

"  But  what  bad  spirit  tempted  you  to  try  your  destruc- 
tive art  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  to-day]"  asked  the 
Orison. 

"  From  your  question,  my  most  excellent  friend,"  said 
the  professor,  "  I  may  infer  that  you  have  seen  nothing  at 
all.  Had  you  been  observant  while  you  were  in  the  grotto, 
you  might  have  perceived,  about  twelve  feet  from  the 
entrance,  a  purple  spot  in  the  calcareous  rocks  on  the  right. 
By  a  closer  examination,  you  would  have  found  it  to  be  a 
fish's  head,  half  raised,  like  the  head  of  a  carp.  The  in- 
cision of  the  mouth,  the  rounded  gills,  a  cinnabar-coloured 
spot  of  about  the  size  of  a  pea,  in  the  place  of  the  eye — all 
can  be  seen.  The  moment  I  made  that  discovery,  I 
knocked  off  the  incrustation,  and  lo  !  about  one  foot  and  a 
half  removed  from  the  head,  I  beheld  a  dark  red  stripe  in 
the  rocks  altogether  the  size  of  the  tail." 

Florian  turned  with  a  vexed  smile  to  Hermione  who  had 
approached  them,  when  Professor  Onyx  gave  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  carp. — "  Thank  the  Lord,  professor,  that  your 
carp  has  not  been  the  cause  of  two  lives  being  lost !  "  re- 
marked the  fugitive. 

"Friend  of  my  soul,  you  jest!  "  was  the  geologist's  an- 
swer, "  I  was  bound  to  get  this  wondrous  remnant  from  the 
antediluvian  world  out  of  the  rock,  even  at  the  risk  of  perish- 
ing together  with  the  carp,  beneath  the  rocks.  But  excuse 
me  now  ;  for  I  must  examine  what  my  experiment  has 
effected,  before  it  is  too  dark.  I  tell  you,  my  inestimable 
friend,  that  this  is  not  a  mere  impression  of  a  fish,  but  a 
perfect  fish  with  flesh  and  bone, — the  only  one  of  its  kind, 
such  as  no  cabinet  in  the  world  ever  possessed. 

The  professor  then  crept  into  the  hole,  and  exclaimed 
from  within, — "  If  my  experiment  has  succeeded,  I  would 


113 


FLORIAN  : 


not  take  two  thousand  guilders  for  my  fish.  Do  me  the 
pleasure  to  wait  until  I  return  !  " 

Florian,  however,  did  not  wait  for  the  professor  ;  but  with 
Hermione  on  his  arm,  walked  down  the  mountain-path 
towards  Madam  Bell's  dwelling,  which  was  a  mile  distant 
from  the  cave. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

The  Prophetess. 

Florian  and  Hermione  did  not  hasten  their  steps,  for  they 
had  much  to  tell  each  other. 

"It  is  true,"  remarked  Florian,  "that  with  his  experi- 
ments this  singular  Professor  Onyx  might  have  buried  us 
in  the  fairies'  temple  ;  and  yet  I  feel  myself  indebted  to 
him  for  so  great  an  amount  of  enjoyment,  that  I  forgive  him 
for  the  alarm  he  occasioned  me." 

"  Not  he,  Florian ;  but  my  fear  and  cowardice  occasioned 
your  alarm,"  said  Hermione. 

"  If  we  were  to  draw  a  still  nicer  distinction,"  subjoined 
the  fugitive,  "  it  was  not  you,  dearest  Hermione  ;  but  those 
who  filled  your  susceptible  imagination  with  images  of 
terror,  may  I  say,  superstitions  and  prophecies  1 " 

"  Oh,  my  friend,  do  not  condemn  as  a  vulgar  belief  all 
that  emanates  from  the  soul,"  was  her  comment. 

"  You  will  however  admit,"  replied  Florian,  "  that  in 
this  instance  we  have  had  the  most  satisfactory  evidence  of 
the  vanity  of  such  foretellings.  Yonder  temple,  as  you  call 
it,  is  a  cave,  and  nothing  more.  Had  it  not  been  called  the 
fairies'  temple,  it  would  scarcely  ever  have  been  supposed  to 
be  the  abode  of  secret  powers.  You,  Hermione,  would  not 
have  considered  my  dream  as  the  magic  effect  of  those 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


concealed  agents.  You  would  never  have  connected  the 
accident  of  the  cave  with  my  dream." 

"  I  will  admit,"  answered  the  lady,  "  that  I  put  a  false 
construction  on  the  dream,  and  old  Morne's  prophecies  ; 
yet  your  dream  and  Mother  Morne  may  combine  true 
warnings.  Do  you  not  think  a  hidden  meaning  is  attached 
to  your  seeing  the  sea,  the  villa,  and  the  garden  of  lilies,  in 
your  dream  ? " 

"  When  we  are  dreaming  " — rejoined  her  lover — "  we 
are  travellers.  Seas  and  villas  perchance  may  flit  before 
our  vision.  That  in  my  dream  I  saw  a  multitude  of  lilies, 
I  can  easily  explain  to  myself ;  for  I  thought  of  you  ;  and 
your  friends  told  me  of  your  predilection  for  lilies  over  all 
other  flowers.  I  consequently  saw  you  in  my  dream  in  the 
midst  of  your  favourites,  the  images  of  yourself." 

"  At  least  you  might  vie  with  any  gipsey  in  interpreting 
dreams  "—said  Hermione — "  I  admit  the  possibility  of  all 
that  you  say,  but  you  surely  will  not  reject  the  possibility 
that  dreams  may  have  a  higher  signification." 

"Well,  then,  possibility  against  possibility" — returned 
Florian — "  why  should  we  torment  ourselves  with  a  fear  of 
possibilities  ? " 

Amid  such  conversation,  night  had  set  in,  with  its  stars 
twinkling  in  the  heavens.  Lights  appeared  in  the  cottages 
around  the  hills ;  and  in  the  foreground,  between  the  trees, 
the  illuminated  windows  of  Madam  Bell's  house  became 
visible. 

While  they  were  walking,  and  whispering  sweet  sounds 
into  each  other's  ear,  they  were  suddenly  interrupted  by 
the  shadow  of  a  human  being,  who,  coming  from  Madam 
Bell's  house,  seemed  to  advance  towards  the  friends  with 
the  strangest  motions  and  gesticulations.  They  heard  a 
footstep,  and  before  them  stood  the  gaunt  figure  of  old 
Morne,  with  uplifted  arms — "  Hie  thee  hence,  fugitive,  and 


120 


FLORIAN  : 


fly !  " — she  cried — "  Thy  garments  are  not  yet  cleansed 
from  blood  !  99 

"  Do  you  mean  me,  Mother  Morne  ? " — said  Florian,  con- 
fusedly, and  vexed  at  the  interruption. 

"  To-morrow,  or  the  day  after,  thou  shalt  know  more  " — 
replied  the  old  woman — "  and  yet  thou  wilt  know  it  too 
soon  !  "  She  then  lifted  her  hand  again  into  the  air,  and 
exclaimed — "  Heaven  hath  eyes  !  99 

An  involuntary  shudder  crept  over  Hermione,  at  those 
mysterious  words.  She  pressed  closer  to  Florian,  as  if  to 
find  protection  from  the  spectre-like  manner  of  the  myste- 
rious woman.  He  remarked  her  timidity,  and  said — "  Fear 
nothing,  mademoiselle.  Mother  Morne  herself  reproved 
me  once,  when  I  asked  her  to  make  me  a  prophecy ;  and 
said,  i  God  alone  knows  the  future  !'  " 

"  She  did  say  so  " — exclaimed  the  old  woman — "  and  so 
she  says  now.  But  she  also  sa}^,  that  men  ought  to  know 
the  present,  and  thou  knowest  it  not — else  thou  wouldest 
know  that  this  day,  thou  hast  led  a  proud  lamb  to  the  altar 
of  repentance  ! 99 

"  And  did  you  know  the  present,  mother  Morne  " — retort- 
ed Florian — "  you  would  not  torment  two  gladsome  beings 
with  your  prattle.    Fare  you  well." 

"  Fare  ye  well !  fare  ye  well !  " — cried  the  old  woman — 
"You  and  mademoiselle  Delory  stand  in  need  of  the  wish  ; 
not  I.  Fare  ye  well  ;  for  ye  will  both  fare  ill.  Did  I  not 
see  blood  on  the  summit  of  Le  Gros  Taureau  ?  and  now  I 
see  the  bleeding  head.  I  have  warned  thee  in  the  dried 
up  bed  of  the  river  La  Combe  ;  and  the  maiden  I  have  cau- 
tioned in  the  silent  ravines  of  Longaigne.  Which  of  you 
has  given  ear  to  my  words  V9 

"  Go  your  way  in  peace  " — retorted  the  fugitive — "  and 
let  us  go  peaceably  on  ours.  What  business  have  we  with 
you  ?    Good  night." 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JUKA. 


121 


"  Hold !  "  screamed  the  prophetess,  in  a  husky  voice  ; 
holding  up  her  arms,  and  standing  for  some  time  before 
them,  in  the  attitude  of  a  maniac — "  leave  off  from  the 
maiden,  and  do  not  defile  her  garments  with  blood,  which 
will  cry  to  Hermione's  heart.  O  that  blood,  that  blood  ! 
which  I  saw  on  the  summit  of  Le  Gros  Taureau,  and  Avhich 
you  could  not  wash  out  in  the  mountain  stream.  Flee  from 
the  valleys  of  the  Jura ;  for  thy  mornings  will  be  fraught 
with  sorrow,  and  the  evenings  will  bring  thee  but  grief." 

"Do  you  understand  a  word  of  all  this?"  said  Florian, 
with  a  smile,  to  Hermione. 

"  Oh,  I  have  here  the  interpretation ;  beneath  three 
swords  that  cross  each  other,  and  are  encompassed  with  a 
crown  of  thorns  !  " — exclaimed  old  Morne  ;  thrusting  her 
hand  into  her  pocket,  and  drawing  forth  a  letter  which  she 
gave  to  Hermione. 

"  Ah,  a  letter  from  my  father !  " — exclaimed  Mademoi- 
selle Delory,  taking  it  out  of  Mother  Morne 's  hand  ;  and 
whispering  Florian  a  hasty  good  night,  she  ran  with  it  into 
the  house  of  her  friend.  At  the  same  moment,  old  Morne 
went  in  an  opposite  direction,  and  walking  with  her  usual 
swiftness  up  the  mountain,  soon  disappeared  in  the  dark- 
ness of  night.  Florian  was  left  alone  ;  for  Hermione  also 
had  vanished  behind  the  trees.  He  therefore  hastened  his 
steps  to  the  hospitable  mansion  of  his  friends. 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Changes. 

Father  StafFard  had  just  returned  from  an  excursion  to  the 
capital,  bearing  with  him  gladsome  tidings  for  Florian.  It 
was  a  commission,  signed  by  the  governor  of  Neufchatel, 


122 


FLORIAN  : 


permitting  the  Grison's  residence  in  the  Canton.  He  had 
himself  gone  to  the  Governor,  and  presented  to  him  Flo- 
rian's  history  ;  and  offered  to  become  his  surety.  He  had 
particularly  dwelt  on  the  conduct  of  those  French  officers, 
who,  in  attacking  Florian  and  George,  between  Les  Bay- 
ards and  Brevine,  had  greatly  violated  the  prerogatives  of 
the  Neufchatel  territory ;  a  circumstance  that  very  much 
excited  the  governor's  indignation. 

"  Now,  then,  you  will  enjoy  in  our  mounains  perfect  lib- 
erty and  security  " — said  the  worthy  old  man,  after  supper. 
"  Wo  be  to  him  who  touches  but  a  single  hair  of  your  head  ! 
The  fate  of  the  Grisons,  like  that  of  all  Switzerland,  as  it  is 
now  given  up  to  the  sword  of  foreigners,  will  remain  un- 
certain for  a  long  time.  Therefore  console  yourself,  and 
bear  it  with  patience.  We  have  already  passed  the  middle 
of  summer :  autumn  will  soon  assume  its  prerogatives,  and 
instead  of  adorning  our  trees  and  bushes  with  fruit  and 
sweet  grapes,  will  hang  icicles  upon  them,  and  clothe  them 
with  snowy  garments.  But  the  merrier  shall  we  be  in  our 
warm  comfortable  rooms.  The  valleys  yield  to  us  their 
choicest  fruits,  and  rarest  gifts.  You  will  not  be  in  want  of 
amusement ;  you  are  one  of  those,  who  are  also  in  good 
company  when  they  are  with  themselves.  So  make  your 
arrangements  for  the  long  winter  ;  for  where  will  you  find 
more  trusty  friends,  or  greater  security,  and  more  freedom  ? 
You  will  stay  with  us  my  friend,  will  you  not  ?  " 

Saying  this,  father  Staffard  extended  his  hand  to  Florian, 
who  took  it  with  deep  emotion,  and  said — "It  would  better 
befit  me  were  I  to  sue.  Where  in  the  world  could  I  be 
happier  than  here,  where  peace  and  virtue  have  their  home  ? 
I  experience  not  even  a  desire  to  visit  my  own  distracted 
country.  Look  upon  me  as  your  son,  as  I  am  already 
George's  brother.  For  then,  sooner  or  later,  I  may  have 
it  in  my  power  to  evince  to  you  my  gratitude.    During  the 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


123 


winter  we  will  consider  how  I  may  invest  my  property  to 
the  best  advantage,  on  La  C6te-aux-Fees." 

"Oh,  Florian  !"  cried  George — "we  have  already  made 
quite  different  plans  !  We  think  of  bidding  farewell  to  our 
mountain  home,  and  perhaps  next  spring  to  remove  into  a 
more  genial  clime.  The  rough  atmosphere  of  these  moun- 
tains agrees  neither  with  my  father  nor  with  Madam  Bell, 
who  is  always  in  delicate  health  ;  and  there  are  no  physi- 
cians near." 

"  Whither  will  ye  go,  ye  happy  ones  ?  Do  not  expel 
me,  for  wheresoever  you  go,  there  will  I  go,"  said  Flo- 
rian. 

"Ah !  "  exclaimed  the  father,  "for  me,  the  rough  moun- 
tain atmosphere  would  be  mild  enough  ;  and  he  has  no  need 
of  a  physician,  whom  a  simple  mode  of  life,  occupation,  and 
a  hilarious  mind  preserves  from  sickness.  But  these  revo- 
lutions have  been?  instigated  by  the  women ;  and  I  must 
be  contented.  My  neighbour,  Madam  Bell,  for  the 
sake  of  her  health,  is  going  to  live  with  her  niece,  Her- 
mione,  not  far  from  Antibes.  There  is  a  large  public  es- 
tate offered  for  sale,  which  George  thinks  of  purchasing,  as 
he  and  Claudine  will  like  to  live  near  their  mother,  and  so 
I  shall  have  to  follow  them  ;  for  what  am  I  to  do  alone 
among  these  mountains  ?" 

"  And  you  too,  Florian,  will  go  with  us  into  the  happy 
land  of  St.  Imar  ?  " — said  George.  "  How !  do  you  blush  ? 
What  are  we  to  do  on  the  dismal  La  Cote-aux-Fees,  when 
our  fairies  have  deserted  it  ?  Give  me  your  hand !  Did 
you  not  tell  me  that  you  felt  yourself  alone  in  the  world, 
without  either  parents,  or  sisters,  or  friends  ?  All  those 
you  will  find  again,  in  the  proximity  of  St.  Imar,  and 
Antibes.  Are  you  content?  Give  me  your  hand  on  it, 
and  make  me  happy." 

"  Can  I  refuse  it  to  him  to  whom  I  would  give  it,  should 


124 


FLORIAN : 


he  even  ask  me  to  follow  him  into  a  desert  ?  "  said  Florian, 
as  he  shook  George  heartily  by  the  hand. 

But  the  following  day  brought  with  it  a  bitter  change. 
The  joys  that  heaven  bestows  on  man  pass  more  swiftly 
by  than  the  glances  of  the  sun,  between  showers  of  rain. 
George,  in  his  morning  walk,  had  called  at  Madam  Bell's 
house,  and  returned  home  with  the  intelligence  that  he 
had  found  both  Claudine  and  her  mother  in  a  very  singular 
state  of  mind,  and  in  inexplicable  confusion.  Hermione 
had  locked  herself  in  her  room,  and  reported  herself  ill. 
"  But  " — added  George — "  they  are  each  of  them  pressed 
by  a  torturing  secret.  One  can  easily  see  in  their  faces, 
the  curtain  they  have  drawn  over  them,  to  prevent  others 
from  seeing  what  is  behind  it.  Madam  Bell  speaks  little, 
busies  herself  with  the  tables  and  chairs,  wipes  the  dust 
from  windows  and  mirrors,  that  she  may  be  enabled  to  lis- 
ten more  attentively  to  what  is  said,  and  my  Claudine 
seems  to  say  with  one  eye, 4  I  love  you,'  and  with  the 
other,  4  do  not  approach  me  !  '  With  one  eye  she  says, 
4 1  should  like  to  have  a  private  chat  with  you,'  and  with 
the  other,  4  ask  me  no  questions.'  However,  have  pa- 
tience, for  I  shall  be  at  the  bottom  of  their  mysteries  be- 
fore I  am  twenty-four  hours  older." 

Florian,  concerned  lest  Hermione's  health  should  have 
sustained  a  shock  from  her  fright  in  the  Prairies'  Temple, 
and  partly  apprehensive  that  Mother  Morne's  warnings 
might  have  worked  on  her  imagination,  so  as  to  become 
deleterious,  repaired,  in  the  afternoon,  to  the  house  of 
Madam  Bell.  He  found  Claudine  and  her  mother,  but 
Hermione  remained  invisible.  His  friends,  at  other  times 
so  friendly  and  kind  to  him,  now  assumed  a  most  reserved 
and  cool  demeanour.  However  forced  this  conduct  appear- 
ed, particularly  on  the  part  of  Claudine,  nevertheless,  it 
was  painful  to  the  Grison.    He  even  thought,  that  in  the 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


125 


house  where  formerly  he  had  been  so  welcome,  his  com- 
pany now  might  not  be  grateful. 

For  some  time  he  stood  bewildered  and  undecided  ;  but 
instead  of  showing  any  resentment  for  the  cool  reception 
he  met  with,  he  turned  to  the  ladies  and  said  openly  and 
frankly — "  By  all  I  can  see,  I  must  have  incurred  your  dis- 
pleasure ;  what  have  I  done,  that  I  should  find  myself  in 
such  a  dilemma  f1 

"  Nothing,  in  the  least,"  said  Claudine,  politely. 

"It  would  be  better,  Mademoiselle  Claudine  " — replied 
Florian  — "  were  we  to  speak  frankly  to  each  other. 
There  may  be  a  misunderstanding  that  would  force  its  way 
between  us.  I  love  you  all  too  much  not  to  feel  pain  at 
losing  the  least  particle  of  that  respect  and  esteem  with 
which  you  have  honoured  me.  If  I  have  done  wrong,  I  en- 
treat you  to  tell  me  the  nature  of  the  offence,  that  I  may 
either  prove  my  innocence,  or  atone  for  my  crime." 

"  What  causes  you  to  entertain  so  strange  a  suspicion 
either  against  us  or  yourself]  "  said  Madam  Bell,  busying 
herself  with  the  window  curtain. 

"  Your  words,  the  expression  of  both  your  countenances, 
in  fact,  your  whole  demeanour,  cause  this  suspicion  to  rise 
within  me  " — replied  Florian.  "  You  will  scarcely  deny 
this  to  me,  and  much  less  to  yourself.  Why  would  you 
therefore  conceal  from  me,  what  is  important  to  your  own, 
and  to  my  peace  of  mind,  and  what  perhaps  may  decide 
whether  I"  

"We  have  no  reply  to  make" — said  Madam  Bell. 
"  There  is  no  difference  to  be  adjusted  between  us.  Allow 
me  therefore  to  break  off  a  conversation  equally  painful  to 
you  and  to  us." 

"  I  obey,  Madam  ;  yet  allow  me  to  ask  one  question," 
said  Florian,  "  will  Mademoiselle  Delory  grant  me  an  in- 
terview of  only  a  few  moments  ?  " 


126 


FLORIAN  : 


"  No,"  said  Claudinc,  hurriedly, — "  No  !  she  needs  rest, 
she  has  passed  a  terrible  night." 

"  You  drive  me  to  despair,  Mademoiselle,  if  you  do  not 
tell  whether  I  am  not  looked  upon  as  the  cause  of  your 
amiable  cousin's  sufferings  ?  "  inquired  the  fugitive. 

"  Well — yes  ;  at  least,  you  have,  you  will  be,"  replied 
Claudine. 

"  Silence  !  Claudine,"  cried  Madam  Bell,  interrupting 
her — "  Who  gave  you  permission  to  speak  ?  Can  you  so 
entirely  forget  yourself?  "  Then  turning  to  Florian  she 
said — "  Pardon  me,  Monsieur  Florian  ;  but  we  must  break 
off  a  subject  that  cannot  be  agreeable  to  either  of  us. 
Hermione  is  not  well.  Give  the  poor  girl  time  enough  to 
become  a  little  familiar  with  her  hard  fate  ;  and  then  per- 
haps you  will  learn  what  you  wish  to  know  ;  and  which, 
against  Hermione's  will,  we  have  no  right  to  divulge." 

With  this  explanation  Florian  was  compelled  to  be 
satisfied.  He  departed  and  wandered  alone  in  the  woods 
and  on  the  mountains  to  dissipate  his  thoughts  or  rather 
to  collect  them.  Much  as  he  revolved  in  his  mind  every 
circumstance  that  had  brought  him  together  with  Hermione, 
and  every  word  he  had  ever  said  to  her,  he  could  not  dis- 
cover how  he  could  have  contributed  to  her  unhappiness. 
His  suspicions  fell  on  the  Sybil  of  Le  Gros  Taureau.  She 
undoubtedly  had  discovered  Hermione's  love,  and  filled  her 
breast  with  superstitious  fears.  Some  peculiar  circumstance 
also  might  be  attached  to  the  mysterious  letter  which  the 
maniac  had  delivered  on  the  preceding  night. 

When  he  returned  from  his  roamings,  George  hastened 
to  meet  him  before  the  garden  of  Standard's  house,  and 
said, — "  Something  very  extraordinary  must  have  happened 
at  Madam  Bell's  house  ;  for  the  whole  conduct  of  the  ladies 
has  undergone  an  entire  change.  They  are  as  dumb  as  a 
post.    Mother  Bell  appeared  alone  ;  Claudine  was  not  per- 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


127 


mitted  to  show  herself.  There  is  some  secret,  Florian  ! 
and  it  must  regard  yourself.  Give  me  some  clue  to  it. 
The  rest,  I  will  know  to-morrow." 

Florian  repeated  to  him  the  events  of  the  previous  day. 
"  Perhaps  Hermione  repents,"  he  added,  "  that  her  heart, 
in  being  overcome  by  the  power  of  the  most  singular 
accidents,  has  revealed  too  much.  It  may  be  female  pride, 
at  having  given  her  heart  and  her  hand  so  thoughtlessly 
to  an  adventurer  and  a  fugitive.  She  may  fear  also  the 
prophecies  of  Mother  Morne,  whose  hatred  I  seem  to  have 
incurred.    Perhaps  it  is  all  this  taken  together." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  you  wrong  her  !  "  exclaimed  George,  "  Her- 
mione loves  you,  and  4  were  he  a  beggar,'  she  once  said  to 
Claudine,  i  and  were  he  the  greatest  outcast  among  men,  he 
would  exercise  no  less  a  power  over  me.  My  existence  is 
interwoven  with  his  life.  But  I  know  that  I  shall  perish 
with  and  through  him,  and  he  will  perish  with  and  through 
me  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXIT. 
The  Rival. 

On  the  next  day  George  was  again  on  the  watch,  but 
on  arriving  at  home  he  was  greatly  out  of  humour,  and 
said — "  I  believe  the  devil  is  playing  his  devices  in  that 
house.  As  I  was  going  over  there,  I  found  Hermione  and 
Claudine  sitting  on  a  bench  in  the  garden  ;  but  when  the 
girls  perceived  me  in  the  distance,  they  got  up  and  v^ent 
into  the  house.  I  followed  them,  but  found  only  the  mother. 
To  all  I  said  or  asked  I  received  no  answer,  excepting  a 
shake  of  the  head  or  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  or  various 
proverbial  sayings,  such  as, — '  We  should  look  before  we 


128 


FLORIAN  : 


leap  ;'  1  at  night  we  are  wiser  than  in  the  morning  ;'  *  we 
should  not  discard  every  presentiment.'  " 

"  And  did  you  not  see  Claudine  ?  "  asked  Florian. 

"Certainly,  only  listen,"  replied  his  friend ;  "  she  entered, 
and  her  mother  left  us  together.  Now  I  thought  my  game 
was  won.  I  commenced  immediately  interrogating  her. 
But  she  would  not  suffer  me  to  ask  a  question,  and  inter- 
rupted me,  by  saying,  '  My  dear  George,  I  dare  not  leave 
Hcrmione  longer  than  three  minutes  ;  therefore  allow  me 
to  be  brief,  and  to  make  a  request  of  you.'  I  answered  her 
by  saying  that  I  would  grant  it  immediately.  '  Well  then, 
you  are  a  dear,  good  soul ;  I  therefore  request  of  you  not 
to  ask  any  questions  in  respect  to  anything  that  may  excite 
your  curiosity.  Furthermore,  tell  Florian,  that  I  feel  very 
sorry  for  him,  and  that  he  must  forget  the  fairies'  temple, 
and  ail  that  occurred  on  that  day ;  and  for  the  sake  of  Her- 
mione's  peace  of  mind,  that  he  must  avoid  visiting  at  our 
house  without  being  invited.' — Thus  spoke  Claudine,  but 
I  felt  vexed  at  what  she  said,  and  asked  her  why  ?  but  she 
shook  her  head,  and  said — '  That  is  a  question  you  are  not 
to  ask. '  Then  she  sighed,  and  ejaculated — '  Poor  Florian  ! 
But  incredible  things  have  happened ;  yes,  incredible  and 
most  terrible  things.'  I  was  about  to  ask  another  question, 
when  she  exclaimed — 'The  three  minutes  have  elapsed.' 
and  with  that  she  ran  away,  turned  again  at  the  door,  bade 
me  a  friendly  adieu,  and  vanished.  There  I  was,  left  alone. 
I  waited  a  long  time,  but  no  one  appeared  ;  and  at  length, 
tired  of  waiting,  I  left  the  house." 

This  report  of  honest  George,  in  every  particular,  was 
more  calculated  to  excite  the  curiosity  of  the  Grison.  At 
supper,  they  communicated  the  whole  of  it  to  father 
Staffard. 

"  Children," — said  the  old  man, — "  do  not  torment  your- 
selves about  women's  secrets.   A  woman's  most  important 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


129 


affairs  are  those  of  her  heart ;  and  there  it  is,  where  the 
most  incredible  things  happen.  Who  knows,  whether 
Mademoiselle  Deloiy  has  not  had  a  remarkable  dream  ;  or 
whether  yesterday  was  not  an  ominous,  unlucky  day,  in 
Madam  Bell's  calendar  ?  Let  the  women  alone,  they  will 
come  of  their  own  accord,  and  reveal  every  one  of  these  in- 
credible things.  With  regard  to  the  letter,  we  cannot  know 
whether  it  contains  anything  remarkable  or  not.  I  must 
speak  with  Madam  Bell,  she  will  be  glad  to  unburden'her 
heart  of  its  secrets  to  me." 

On  the  next  morning,  old  StafFard  repaired  to  his  neigh- 
bour's house.  The  young  men  at  home,  were  burning 
with  impatience  for  his  return  and  his  communication. 
When  they  saw  him  at  a  distance,  they  went  forth  to  meet 
him. 

The  old  man  laughed  and  said — "  I  thought  you  would 
endure  all  the  torments  of  purgatory,  until  I  should  come 
to  release  you.  Well  then,  the  incredible  things  that  have 
happened,  I  have  seen  with  my  own  eyes  ;  and  the  key  to 
this  great  mystery  was  standing  in  Madam  Bell's  door 
when  I  arrived." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  father  ?  "  asked  George. 

"  Why  it  is  Captain  Larmagne,  who  has  taken  his  quar- 
ters in  Madam  Bell's  house," — replied  the  mountaineer. 

"  Oh,  oh  !  "  exclaimed  George,  "  Is  that  all  ?  But  why 
do  they  make  so  great  a  secret  out  of  that  ?  Is  it  because 
for  several  years  he  has  been  one  of  Hermione's  unsuccess- 
ful lovers  ?  " 

"  Umph !  "  replied  father  Staffard,  "  successful  or  un- 
successful, even  if  Hermione  should  reject  his  homage, 
you  know  that  her  father  favours  his  suit,  and  that  Her- 
mione regards  her  father's  word  above  all  things." 

"  But  she  has  decidedly  declared,"  remarked  George, 
"  that  she  did  not  love  the  captain." 
7 


130 


FLORIAN  : 


"  That  is  all  the  same  to  me,"  said  the  elder  Stafford, 
"  yet  for  all  that,  it  explains  Claudine's  incredible  things. 
Women  always  dread  dill'cuities  between  rivals,  if  not 
scenes  of  bloodshed.  They  know  also,  through  you  and 
me,  that  Florian  has  dealt  lather  harshly  with  the  captain 
in  the  scuffle  on  the  heights  of  Les  Bayards." 

"  How  ?"  exclaimed  Florian,  "Is  he  the  same  officer  who 
was  going  to  arrest  me,  as  we  were  coming  from  Brevine  ?  " 

"Certainly  he  is" — replied  George — "I  cannot  bear 
the  fellow.  He  was  on  La  Cote-aux-Fees,  at  the  com- 
mand of  her  father,  and  accompanied  Hermicne  hither. 
Colonel  Despars  is  the  confidential  and  intimate  friend  of 
Captain  Larmagne.  He  then  remained  several  days  at 
Madam  Bell's  ;  but  I  became  sick  of  him,  the  first  hour 
that  I  saw  him,  and  did  not  visit  Claudine  as  long  as  he 
stayed  there.  1  have  never  seen  him  since,  excepting  when 
we  met  him  on  Les  Bayards.  But  if  he  dares  again  to 
raise  difficulties,  he  may  consider  himself  fortunate,  if  he 
leaves  La  Cote-aux-Ffees  with  a  single  whole  bone  in  his 
body." 

"Hold!" — exclaimed  father  Stafford — "No  mischief. 
Let  the  captain  rest  in  peace  ;  and  do  not  spoil  what  the 
women  will  make  good." 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

An  Old  Acquaintance. 

Florian  was  so  obedient,  that  he  even  resolved  to  confine 
himself  to  the  house,  in  order  to  avoid  meeting  his  rival, 
perchance  when  taking  a  walk. 

He  was  seated  in  his  own  rocm,  absorbed  in  mathe- 
matical drawings  and  calculations,  when  he  heard  a  knock 
at  the  door ;  and  on  his  summons  appeared  Professor  Onyx. 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


131 


u  Best  of  friends  !  " — he  exclaimed  ;  and  with  one 
bound  he  stood  before  Florian's  table. — "  It  was  my  duty 
long  since  to  have  visited  you,  but  you  know  that  a  person 
who  has  so  many  grave  pursuits,  as  myself,  can  never  call 
his  time  his  own ;  and  among  friends,  these  matters  are 
not  considered  so  strictly.  You  will  therefore  forgive  me  ! 
I  see  you  are  buried  in  books.  Well !  I  shall  not  stay 
long  ;  and  meanwhile,  I  shall  be  as  mute  as  a  fish.  But 
speaking  of  fish — do  you  know  what  fate  my  antediluvian 
fish  has  met  with  ?  It  was  a  sad  disaster  !  Every  thing 
blown  into  ten  thousand  shivers.  Not  a  vestige  of  it  is 
now  to  be  seen." 

"  I  greatly  deplore  your  loss,  professor,  but  "  replied 

the  fugitive. 

"  Pardon  me,  friend  of  my  soul !  I  perceive  with  delight, 
that  you  are  a  mathematician," — said  Onyx, — "  I  see 
nothing  there,  but  algebraical  circles  and  triangles. — 
Friend,  a  higher  destiny  has  brought  us  together,  we  will 
form  a  partnership.  I  will  give  you  my  local  and  techni- 
cal knowledge  ;  and  I  will  avail  myself  of  your  mathe- 
matics. A  man  like  yourself,  I  have  long  since  been  in 
need  of  to  solve  one  of  the  most  important  questions. 
Have  you  ever  been  to  Sous-le-Saunier  or  to  Salines  ?  " 

"  Never," — rejoined  Florian. 

"  Then  you  must  go  there  with  me  !  You  must  go  " — 
added  the  philosopher. 

"  May  I  know  the  reason  why  ?  "  inquired  the  Grison. 

"  You  will  be  astonished," — the  professor  cried  out, — 
"  where  the  salt-springs  flow  out  of  the  gypsum  formation, 
I  will  show  you  several  species  of  stone,  and  then — yes, 
rejoice,  my  friend — I  shall  show  you  the  same  formations, 
not  far  from  the  lake  of  Neufchatel.  Now  the  question 
arises,  how  deep  must  we  bore  for  the  salt-springs  ?  That 
you  can  calculate,  with  your  algebraical  forms,  as  soon  as 


132 


FLORIAN  : 


you  know  the  geological  relation  of  Salines  and  Sous-le- 
Saunier.  Then  we  two  are  not  only  provided  for,  but  also 
the  principality  of  Xeufch&tel,  and  all  Switzerland.  Not 
an  hour  ago,  I  was  saying  to  Madamoiselle  Delory  " 

"  Have  you  seen  Mademoiselle  Delory  1  " — earnestly 
inquired  Florian. 

44  But  three  words ! — consequently  I  said  what  did 

I  say  ? — what  was  I  going  to  say  1 — you  have  interrupted 
me,  " — replied  Onyx. 

44  You  were  speaking  of  Madamoiselle  Delory," — re- 
marked the  fugitive. 

44  Of  Madamoiselle  Delory.  I  carried  her  some  fresh 
hermiones  ;  she  took  but  a  single  one,  and  put  it  in  her 
bosom.  The  captain  behaved  a  little  uncivil  on  that 
occasion  " — muttered  the  botanist. 

44  Captain  Larmagne  ?  " — said  the  Grison. 

"  Well,  well,  we  shall  speak  of  him  anon," — returned 
Onyx. — '4  Only  think,  my  inestimable  friend,  how  advan- 
tageously the  superabundant  turf  of  these  marshy  valleys 
may  be  employed.  What  new  industry  and  commerce 
would  be  introduced !  The  lakes  of  Geneva  and  Neuf- 
chatel  would  become  more  closely  connected.  The  Pays 
de  Vaud  must  supply  us  with  wood.  Through  the  Thielle 
to  the  lake  of  Brienne  and  the  Aar,  we  shall  command  the 
principal  water-carriage  ;  and  in  a  short  time,  we  should 
be  able  to  supply  all  Switzerland  with  salt." 

44  But  I  would  rather  you  had  given  the  captain  some  salt, 
for  behaving  rudely  to  Mademoiselle  Delory,"  replied  Florian. 

44  Oh,  he  was  not  rude  to  the  lady ;  but  he  kissed  her 
hand  in  my  presence  " — answered  the  professor.  44  Had  I 
been  in  the  uncivil  fellow's  place,  I  should  never  have  done 
it.    But  towards  me  he  behaved  rudely  when" — 

44  So  he  seemed  rather  intimate  ? " — was  the  Grison's  in- 
quiry. 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


133 


"  Understand  me  rightly" — said  Onyx.  "The  captain 
and  myself  are  old  friends  and  acquaintances.  One  speaks 
his  opinions  to  the  other,  and  there  the  matter  rests." 

"  And  are  the  captain  and  Mademoiselle  Delory  old  ac- 
quaintances also  ? " — asked  the  fugitive. 

"Pardon  me,  my  dear  friend" — was  the  philosopher's 
response — "  I  did  not  pay  very  strict  attention  to  it ;  but  as 
I  faintly  remember,  she  only  spoke  in  monosyllables." 

"  How  ? " — ejaculated  Florian — "  you  remember  it  but 
faintly !  and  scarcely  an  hour  has  elapsed  since  you  saw 
Hermione  ? " 

"Of  course — but  an  uncommonly  large  spider" — Onyx 
added — "  that  was  swinging  before  the  window,  holding  it- 
self by  its  invisible  threads,  engrossed  all  my  attention. 
You  should  have  seen  the  magnificent  insect !  " 

"  In  the  company  of  a  beautiful  young  lady,  professor,  I 
think  I  should  not  have  been  attracted  by  the  charms  of 
even  a  spider  " — rejoined  the  Grison. 

"  Who  speaks  of  charms  ?  In  regard  to  that,  my  inesti- 
mable friend,  we  are  of  one  opinion" — retorted  the  ento- 
mologist— "and  I  confess  Hermione  was  more  beautiful 
than  the  spider.  But  a  spider  is  not  without  its  interest  to 
the  observer.  For  all  the  artificial  knowledge  we  have  of 
the  weather,  I  would  not  give  a  sous.  Spiders  are  the  real 
prophets  of  nature,  the  most  unerring  hands  on  the  atmo- 
spheric clock  !  Not  until  a  catechism  treating  on  spiders — 
not  until  an  extract  of  arachnology  is  taught  in  schools — 
not  until  in  every  farm-house  spiders  are  declared  holy  an- 
imals, like  storks  upon  the  roofs  of  houses,  agriculture  nei- 
ther can  nor  will  arrive  at  the  summit  of  perfection." 

"  And  your  spider  " — said  Florian — "  prevented  you  from 
seeing  all  that  the  captain  and  mademoiselle  " 

"  Mademoiselle  Delory  had  left  me  and  the  captain  long 
before  " — rejoined  the  professor — "  when  he  took  me  by  the 


134 


FLORIAN  : 


arm,  and  invited  me  to  take  a  walk  with  him.  Then  v\  e 
began,  I  know  not  how,  to  converse  about  you.  He  asked 
me  a  thousand  questions,  which  I  answered  to  the  best  of 
my  ability.  I  could  swear  that  Monsieur  Moustache  has 
fallen  in  love  with  you.  In  his  enthusiasm,  he  dragged  me 
to  his  room,  and  there  wrote  a  real  love-letter  to  you.  The 
thing  would  have  slipped  my  memory.  Thus  it  is,  my  ex- 
cellent friend  !  but  when  you  begin  to  talk,  you  make  a  per- 
son forget  everything." 

With  those  words,  Professor  Onyx  gave  the  letter  to  Flo- 
rian,  who  broke  it  open,  and  read  it  immediately. 

u  Am  I  not  right  ?  "—continued  the  philosopher. — "  Is  not 
the  captain  in  extacies  to  make  your  acquaintance  ?  But 
if  I  had  told  him  what  I  now  know  of  your  mathematical 
knowledge — speaking  however  of  mathematics — how  is  it 
with  our  boring  for  the  salt- springs  on  the  lake  of  Neuf- 
chatel?" 

"The  captain  expects  my  answer,  professor" — remark- 
ed Florian. 

"  I  promised  to  carry  it  to  him  immediately  " — said  Onyx. 
— "It  is  well  that  you  puj  me  in  mind  of  it.  Farewell." 

"  But  you  do  not  yet  know  my  answer" — replied  the  Gri- 
son. — "  Have  a  moment's  patience,  if  you  please." 

Florian  merely  wrote  on  a  scrap  of  paper  the  following 
words  : 

"  Sir — I  shall  have  the  honour  to  grant  your  desire." 
He  then  folded  it  up  in  a  note,  and  gave  it  to  Professor 
Onyx,  who  immediately  ran  away  with  it,  as  the  younger 
StafFard  entered  his  room. 

Florian  gave  his  friend  George  the  captain's  letter,  which 
contained  the  following  words  : 

"  Sir — If  you  are  the  same  adventurer  from  the  Grisons, 
who,  between  La  Brevine  and  Les  Bayards,  behaved  so 
rustically  brave  in  a  scuffle  with  a  French  officer,  you  will 


THE  FUGITIVE  OP  TIIE  JURA. 


135 


have  no  objection  to  give  me  that  satisfaction,  which,  as  a 
man  of  honour,  I  require,  and  which  you  will  feel  yourself 
obliged  to  give.  I  shall  therefore  expect  you  at  sunrise  to- 
morrow morning,  on  the  foot-path  leading  to  La  Brevine, 
at  the  entrance  of  the  pine-wood.  I  shall  not  be  attended 
by  any  person,  except  my  temporary  servant,  and  my  good 
sword.  I  await  your  answer.  Do  not  let  me  wait  too  long 
at  the  above-mentioned  place,  as  duty  calls  me  to  Pontar- 
lier.  L.  Larmagne." 

George  showed  an  angry  countenance  after  he  had  pe  - 
rused  the  letter.  "  How  will  you  answer  this  scrdll  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  That  I  shall  meet  him  " — replied  the  fugitive — "  and  in 
}rour  company,  George." 

The  result  of  this  difficulty  seemed  rather  precarious  to 
honest  George  ;  for  should  it  end  with  bloodshed,  and  his 
friend  be  either  victorious  or  vanquished,  Florian  would  ei- 
ther be  compelled  to  fly,  or  if  wounded,  he  would  be  con- 
fined for  some  time  to  a  bed  of  pain  and  sickness. 

Although  Florian  spoke  lightly  of  the  matter,  neverthe- 
less, George  made  all  the  necessary  arrangements  for  an 
immediate  journey,  in  the  event  that  the  captain  should  be 
killed,  and  Florian  be  compelled  to  fly.  For  that  purpose 
he  despatched  a  messenger  with  Florian's  most  necessary 
clothing  to  Brevine,  directing  him  to  have  a  carriage  in 
readiness  to  convey  the  fugitive  to  the  house  of  his  friend  at 
Boudry. 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
The  Rencontre. 

The  stars  were  still  hanging  about  the  western  horizon, 
like  radiant  wreaths  and  chains,  and  the  dawn  of  morninor 
was  just  gleaming  in  the  east  when  the  two  fiends  com- 


136 


FLORIAN  : 


mcnced  their  walk  to  the  pine-wood.  Florian  endeavoured 
to  cheer  his  friend  with  merry  jokes  ;  for  George  moved 
along  very  dejectedly  at  his  side. 

The  stars  gradually  disappeared,  and  a  dark  red  was 
glowing  in  the  horizon,  when  they  arrived  at  the  pinc-wood. 
That  magnificent  prelude  of  sunrise  and  of  the  waking  of 
the  world  indemnified  them  for  their  enemy's  procrastina- 
tion. They  spoke  of  their  future  consolatory  prospects,  and 
on  the  pinions  of  imagination,  they  floated  in  the  magic 
land  of  already-fulfilled  wishes.  "While  they  were  thus  rev- 
elling in  the  realms  of  visionary  bliss,  the  sun  poured  his 
first  golden  rays  upon  the  world,  and  spread  a  radiance 
around  the  heads  of  those  young  enthusiasts.  The  moun- 
tain-world rose  in  the  light.  On  the  grass  in  the  meadows 
glistened  the  diamond  dew-drops,  while  silent  oceans  of 
mist  rolled  up  from  the  depths  of  the  valleys. 

Suddenly  the  sound  of  a  human  voice  fell  upon  their  ears  ; 
and  turning  their  heads,  the  friends  beheld  the  captain,  and 
a  man  carrying  some  baggage. 

"  Your  pardon,  gentlemen  " — said  the  professional  ruffian 
— "  for  making  you  wait ;  but  as  the  sun  is  just  rising  from 
behind  the  mountains,  therefore  let  us  go  to  work  immedi- 
ately. A  little  to  the  right  we  shall  find  a  very  convenient 
and  open  space." 

The  friends  followed  him.  While  on  their  way,  George 
sought  to  make  a  treaty  of  peace  ;  but  the  captain  repulsed 
him  with  a  short  and  impertinent  speech.  "  With  you,  young 
man,  I  have  nothing  to  do.  I  merely  seek  your  companion 
to  chastise  him  a  little  for  his  rustic  demeanour." 

"  Captain  " — said  Florian — "  you  can  at  least  see  that  I 
do  not  fear  you.  Nevertheless,  I  am  not  inclined  to  fight 
with  you,  since  I  consider  it  a  perfect  absurdity.  You  may 
be  a  very  estimable  man  ;  but  on  yonder  mountain  that 
here  you  ca^see,  you  were  the  wilful  instigator  of  the  quar- 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JUKA. 


137 


rel  between  us.  Let  us  now  settle  this  difficulty  like  rea- 
sonable men.  Perhaps  I  did  hurt  you  a  little  more  than  I 
intended." 

"This  will  avail  you  nothing" — replied  the  captain — 
"you  have  demeaned  yourself  like  an  assassin.  I  only 
wish  to  give  you  something  by  which  to  remember  me." 
Saying  this  he  drew  his  sword  from  the  scabbard. 

"And  if  one  of  us  should  fall" — said  Florian — "of  what 
advantage  would  it  be  to  the  victor  ?  I  know  how  you  are 
circumstanced  in  Madam  Bell's  house." 

The  captain's  face  became  crimson,  and  his  eyes  spar- 
kled as  if  on  fire. — "That  is  the  very  thing  that  urges  me 
on,"  retorted  the  bloodsucker — "  an  outlaw  and  vagrant, 
like  yourself,  must  not  dishonour  the  rights  of  hospitality." 

"  Where  have  I  dishonoured  them  ?  "  abruptly  exclaimed 
Florian. 

"  I  am  not  called  upon  to  account  for  that,"  vociferated 
the  soldier  ;  "  but  blood  for  blood.  Mademoiselle  Delory 
will  thank  me.    Draw,  fellow,  draw  !  " 

"No,"  replied  Florian  calmly,  " I  demand  an  explana- 
tion. You  are  angry.  A  person  who  is  going  to  fight 
should  be  collected  and  cool.  Compose  yourself,  therefore, 
else  the  odds  against  you  are  too  great." 

"  Oh,  thou  vagrant,  rebel,  and  murderer  of  my  brave 
comrades  in  Disentis,"  roared  out  the  would-be  assassin  ; 
"  prepare  thyself,  for  thine  hour  is  come  !  Therefore  draw  ! 
villain,  draw  !  " 

"  Give  me  the  explanation  !  "  mildly  rejoined  the  Grison. 
"  However,  I  am  neither  a  rebel  of  Disentis,  nor  the  mur- 
derer of  your  comrades." 

"  Draw  !  "  roared  the  captain. 

George  cried  out,  "  How  can  you  stand  there  so  com- 
posedly ?  I  wish  you  had  broken  the  fellow's  neck  above 
Brevine." 

7* 


133 


FLORIAN  '. 


The  captain,  instead  of  an  answer,  gave  George  a  blow 
across  the  shoulders  with  the  flat  end  of  his  sword.  Florian 
rushed  at  the  captain,  their  weapons  clashed  ;  and  in  about 
a  minute,  the  captain's  sword  flew  high  in  the  air,  and  fell 
against  a  tree.  Florian  held  the  point  of  his  sword  to  the 
captain's  breast,  and  said,  "  Captain,  you  are  in  my  power  ; 
I  demand  once  more  the  explanation  I  require." 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  fencing  master's  trick,"  exclaimed  the  cap- 
tain.   "  Well,  now  finish  the  business." 

"Never,"  replied  Florian.  "I  forgive  you."  Saying 
this,  he  turned  away  from  the  captain  ;  but  no  sooner  had 
he  done  so,  than  he  was  compelled  again  defend  himself ; 
for  the  captain  having  picked  up  his  sword,  attacked  Florian 
anew. 

"  Not  until  I  have  left  my  mark  upon  you,  you  villainous 
scoundrel,"  roared  the  captain,  and  they  both  were  engaged 
again  in  mortal  combat. 

"  If  you  are  desirous  of  seeing  blood,  you  shall  be  grati- 
fied," coolly  retorted  the  fugitive. 

"  Attention  !  Be  careful !  "  exclaimed  Florian  ;  and  at 
the  same  moment,  the  blood  gushed  in  a  stream  from  the 
captain.  Florian's  sword  had  passed  through  the  captain's 
shoulder,  a  little  below  the  neck.  The  soldier  and  George 
ran  to  his  assistance.  Florian  flung  away  his  sword. 
They  laid  the  captain  on  the  grass,  and  examined  his 
wound.  George  had  provided  himself  with  the  necessary 
bandages,  but  it  was  long  before  the  blood  could  be 
staunched. 

"  That  was  a  rough  thrust,"  said  Larmagne,  as  they  were 
wiping  the  blood  from  his  clothes.  "  I  can  go  no  further. 
Carry  me  back  to  Madam  Bell's  house.  And  you,"  he 
continued,  turning  to  the  soldier,  "  hasten  to  Brevine,  send 
back  the  carriage,  and  say  an  accident  has  befallen  me.  I 
resign  myself  to  the  care  of  these  gentlemen." 


THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 


139 


George  gave  a  little  scrap  of  paper  to  the  soldier,  with 
orders  to  cany  it  to  a  surgeon. 

"My  accursed  temper,"  said  the  captain  to  Florian,  as 
he  was  throwing  his  cloak  over  him.  "  My  accursed  heat, 
and — and — your  accursed  luck.  But  I  must  confess  that 
you  are  a  man  of  honour  and  magnanimity.  If  I  live,  I 
shall  become  your  friend.  You  fence  remarkably  well. 
You  keep  your  temper  very  cool.  I  owe  you  my  respects, 
therefore  give  me  your  hand." 

Florian  gave  him  his  hand,  and  so  did  George,  of  whom 
the  captain  asked  forgiveness.  "  Through  the  whole  of  my 
life,  I  have  been  a  hot-headed  fellow,"  said  Larmagne. 
"  As  true  as  I  live,  I  believe  I  am  dying." 

George,  observing  that  the  captain  was  fainting  from  too 
great  a  loss  of  blood,  rubbed  his  temples  and  forehead  with 
Kirschwasser  !  The  captain  drank  some  of  it,  and  felt  him- 
self strengthened.  When  he  attempted  to  rise,  in  order  to  re- 
turn leaning  on  the  arms  of  the  two  young  men,  he  was  taken 
with  a  trembling,  and  sinking  down  again,  he  said — "  I 
shall  never  leave  this  spot.    My  sand  has  run  out." 

They  consoled  him,  made  him  sit  on  a  thick  pole,  and 
then  lifting  it  up  from  the  ground,  so  that  the  captain  could 
support  himself,  by  laying  his  arm  upon  one  of  the  young 
men's  shoulders,  they  carried  him  to  the  first  house  which 
they  saw,  where  they  received  more  assistance.  After 
which  he  was  conveyed  to  Madam  Bell's  house. 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

The  Banishment. 

Madam  Bell,  with  Claudine  and  Hermione,  and  all  her 
servants,  came  to  meet  the  wretched  procession,  before 
they  had  reached  the  dwelling.     George  had  gone  in 


140 


I'LOKIAN  : 


advance,  to  prepare  the  ladies  for  their  additional  per- 
plexity. 

"  Do  not  be  angry  with  me  " — said  Larmagne- — "  my 
dear  madam,  for  being  compelled  to  return  again  to  your 
house  ;" — then  taking  Florian  kindly  by  the  hand,  he  con- 
tinued— "  And  much  less  must  this  young  man  incur  your 
reproaches,  for  he  is  indeed  like  a  saint,  but  he  fights  like  a 
demon.  Had  he  so  willed,  I  should  not  now  be  here  before 
your  door,  asking  you  to  extend  your  hospitality  to  me  ;  but 
before  the  gates  of  another  mansion,  whence  there  is  no 
return." 

The  ladies  stood  round  the  man,  shuddering  at  his  bloody 
and  pale  countenance.  Hermione  cast  a  reproachful  look 
at  Florian.  The  captain  was  carried  into  the  house,  fol- 
lowed by  all.  Florian  also  was  going  in,  to  give  his  assist- 
ance, should  it  be  required,  when  he  was  surprised  by  the 
touch  of  a  soft  hand.  It  was  Hermione's,  who  drew  him 
into  one  of  the  rooms. 

She  made  several  attempts  to  speak,  but  her  voice 
faltered,  and  her  lips  trembled.  She  lifted  her  hand  to 
heaven,  as  if  imploring  strength  from  above,  and  then  said, 
"  For  the  sake  of  heaven,  tell  me  what  new  calamity  this 
is,  and  what  again  you  have  been  doing  1 " 

He  endeavoured  to  tranquillize  her,  and  to  justify  him- 
self, by  giving  her  a  minute  account  of  the  whole  transac- 
tion. "  Oh  !  " — she  exclaimed,  with  a  pitiful  look  at 
Florian — "  I  believe  it.  But  what  avails  a  justification  1 
Our  destiny  is  hastening  on  to  its  fulfilment.  You  have 
dragged  me  down  into  the  abyss  of  ruin.  It  is  already 
accomplished.  You  can  no  longer  save  me.  Fly,  oh,  fly  I 
for  I  am  destined  by  my  wretched  fate  to  drag  you  on  to  the 
abyss  of  destruction." 

"  Hermione,  I  conjure  you,  for  the  sake  of  my  comfort  and 
ycur  own  peace,  not  to  give  way  to  superstitious  appre- 


THE  FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


141 


liensions.  Remember  your  promise  in  the  fairies'  tem- 
ple " — replied  the  fugitive. 

"  Of  what  avail  is  it  to  me  ?  I  am  already  bereft  of  all 
the  felicity  this  life  affords  !  "—added  his  betrothed.—"  Oh, 
if  the  rocks  in  the  fairies'  temple  had  fallen  upon  us,  at 
your  side  I  should  have  breathed  out  a  life,  which  now  has 
become  a  source  of  endless  sorrow  and  pain." 

"  You  alarm  me  !  "• — uttered  Florian.  "  What  has  hap- 
pened ?  What  connection  is  there  between  yourself  and 
this  miserable  Larmagne?" 

"There  is  none  " — rejoined  Hermione. — "But  to  you, 
unhappy  man,  to  you,  I  am  linked  for  your  destruction.  I 
love  you,  Florian  !  and  from  my  hand  you  are  destined  to 
receive  the  cup  of  despair !  Do  not  doubt  but  that  it  will 
happen  !  Yes,  it  will  happen,  as  surely  as  I  have  become 
wretched  through  you  !  " 

"  Through  me  " — exclaimed  Florian,  turning  as  pale  as 
ashes. 

"  Read,  and  know  all  " — said  Hermione,  placing  in  his 
hand  a  letter  that  was  lying  on  the  table.  The  seal  with 
three  swords  crossing  each  other,  and  encompassed  with  a 
crown  of  thorns,  brought  Mother  Morne  to  his  mind. 

The  letter  was  more  than  three  months  old,  and  had 
been  written  in  Bellinzona,  by  a  friend  of  Hermione 's 
father-in-law.  By  it  Hermione  was  informed,  that  Colonel 
Despars  was  very  ill  with  wounds  that  he  had  received  in 
quelling  the  insurrection  in  the  Grisons  ;  that  there  was 
some  slight  hope  of  preserving  his  life,  by  amputating  his 
right  arm;  but  that  from  want  of  the  necessary  attendance, 
the  wound  had  become  more  dangerous,  as  the  colonel  had 
been  removed  from  one  place  to  another,  and  been  greatly 
exposed  to  the  inclemency  of  the  weather.  Then  the 
writer  gave  a  minute  detail,  how  the  colonel  had  received 
the  wound,  on  what  occasion,  and  on  what  day.  The  letter 


142 


FLORIAN  : 


concluded  with  particular  directions  from  the  colonel  to  his 
beloved  Hermione,  in  case  he  should  have  to  bid  adieu  to 
the  world. 

Florian  became  as  pale  as  a  corpse,  when  in  the  descrip- 
tion of  Colonel  Despars'  murderer,  he  beheld  himself.  The 
letter  fell  out  of  his  hand,  as  he  exclaimed — "  Why  could 
he  not  have  been  somebody  else  !  " 

After  a  pause,  he  approached  Hermione,  who  was  sit- 
ting beside  the  window,  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hand- 
kerchief, and  said — "Mademoiselle  Delory,  although  I 
know  not  from  what  source  you  have  learned  that  it  was  I 
who  wounded  your  father-in-law,  yet  I  confess  that  you  are 
correctly  informed.  Under  similar  circumstances  I  could 
not  do  otherwise  to-day.  You  are  right,  Mademoiselle,  we 
must  separate  !  You  can  never  yield  your  heart  and  hand 
to  the  man  who  has  spilled  your  father's  blood.  Never 
could  I,  blameless  and  guiltless  as  I  am,  have  the  courage 
to  require  your  hand.  Yet  I  would  ask  one  more  question  : 
Is  this  the  latest  intelligence  you  have  ?  " 

"  A  soldier,  going  to  Besangon  " — replied  Hermione — 
"  received  this  letter  in  Bellinzona,  and  was  the  bearer  of 
it.  That  soldier,  who  at  the  same  time  was  ordered  to  es- 
cort a  division  of  the  battalion,  as  prisoners  to  France,  af- 
terwards received  other  commissions,  and  could  not  say  any 
thing  regarding  my  father.  As  they  were  marching  away 
from  Bellinzona,  it  was  reported  among  the  soldiers  that  the 
colonel  was  dead,  because  he  would  not  consent  to  the  am- 
putation of  his  arm.  But  as  the  numerous  battles,  skir- 
mishes, and  retreats  cut  off  all  means  of  communication,  it 
is  probable  that  some  of  the  letters  may  have  been  lost." 

"  But  whither  has  your  father's  battalion  or  brigade 
marched  ?  And  where  is  General  Menard  at  present  ?  " 
asked  Florian . 

Hermione  replied  sadly  and  softly — "  Mother  Morne, 


THE  FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA.  143 

who  received  the  letter  from  the  soldier  at  Couvet,  inquired 
in  vain.  If  my  father  were  still  living,  by  some  means  or 
other  he  would  have  informed  me." 

Florian  stood  in  gloomy  consternation  before  the  dis- 
tressed maiden,  still  more  unhappy  than  herself. 

"  Well,  then  " — he  said,  after  a  long  silence — "  so  let  it 
be  !  I  am  almost  inclined  to  believe  that  virtue  is  vain — 
destiny  is  blind — sound  reason  is  rubbish — and  that  super- 
stition is  the  greatest  wisdom.  Who  could  have  believed 
that  the  ravings  of  an  insane  old  woman  should  be  full  of 
meaning,  and  the  most  dutiful  actions  in  the  end  turn  out 
pernicious  ?  You  are  are  wretched,  Hermione,  and  I  am 
the  cause  of  it.  I  may  have  killed  your  father-in-law.  You 
loved  him,  and  without  my  knowing  or  wishing  it,  I  have 
thrown  you  into  an  abyss  of  sorrow." 

Hermione  wept  silently  ;  and  Florian  narrated  the  facts, 
as  they  actually  occurred  in  his  native  country. 

"  I  have  known  it  long  since,  through  Claudine  and 
George,"  she  said.  "  When  I  heard  the  circumstances  re- 
lated for  the  first  time,  and  I  knew  not  who  it  was  that  fell 
before  your  unfortunate  sword,  I  admired  your  valour  and 
your  success.  Man  should  never  praise  a  deed  ;  for  he 
knows  not  but  it  may  become  his  curse  !  Alas,  unhappy 
man  ;  you  first  killed  my  father,  and  now  the  blood  of  the 
friend  of  his  youth  is  cleaving  to  your  sword  !  Fare- 
well !  your  arm  that  should  have  cherished  has  de- 
stroyed me  !  I  shall  forever  love,  and  yet  forever  avoid 
you.  Leave  this  district,  as  soon  as  possible — to-day — 
now  !  Alas  !  the  greatest  of  all  horrors  yet  awaits  me. 
As  surely  as  the  prophecy  has  partly  been  fulfilled,  I  shall 
yet  be  the  instrument  by  which  you  are  to  be  hurled  into 
the  abyss  of  dire  destruction." 

Florian  stood  before  her,  agitated  by  conflicting  passions. 
His  brain  was  bewildered,  and  he  could  not  comprehend 


144 


FLOKIAN  : 


his  impending  fate.  Now  that  Hermione  with  her  own 
lips  had  spoken  of  an  eternal  separation,  he  discovered  for 
the  first  time,  the  force  and  extent  of  his  unconquerable  af- 
fection for  her. 

After  a  long  silence  he  aroused  himself,  and  with  a  trem- 
ulous voice  he  asked — "  Will  you  allow  me  to  write  to  you, 
when  I  am  far  distant  ?  "  But  when  he  extended  his  hand 
to  bid  her  a  last  farewell,  she  drew  hers  tremblingly  back, 
and  he  remarked  that  a  convulsive  shudder  ran  over  Her- 
mione's  whole  frame. 

When  he  saw  this,  tears  fell  from  his  eyes  ;  and  he  turn- 
ed away  from  her,  covering  his  face  with  his  hand,  and 
walked  towards  the  door.  As  he  was  about  to  open  it, 
Hermione,  unable  longer  to  restrain  her  feelings,  rushed 
after  him,  in  the  excess  of  her  grief,  flung  her  arms  around 
his  neck,  and  cried — "  Farewell,  thou  who  art  my  first  and 
my  last  love  ! — Farewell !  thou  man  of  my  blessings  and  my 
curse  ;  thou  man  of  my  regard  and  my  horror  ;  of  my  long- 
ing and  of  my  terror.  Farewell,  forever  !  O,  hate  me  not  ! 
although  I  have  brought  thee  to  misery,  and  destroyed  thee, 
yet  hate  me  not.  My  heart  is  broken — adieu !  "  She 
rushed  out  of  the  room.  He  passed  into  the  open  air,  look- 
ed once  more  back  to  the  spot  where  he  had  pronounced 
his  farewell  to  happiness,  and  as  if  he  had  been  seized  by 
desperation,  ran  into  the  open  fields. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
Vengeance. 

He  had  proceeded  for  some  time,  not  knowing  whither  he 
went ;  when  a  voice  from  behind  the  firs  called  out  to  him, 
"Turn  back,  turn  back,  thou  child  of  perdition  !" 


THE  FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


145 


Ho  looked  up,  and  saw  Mother  Morne,  brandishing  her 
crutch  before  him,  with  a  countenance  expressive  of  the 
greatest  anxiety.  She  was  standing  between  two  fir  trees, 
with  the  perspiration  running  from  her  face,  and  gasping 
for  breath.  Florian  saw  blood  at  her  feet,  and  remember- 
ed where  he  was.  It  was  near  the  place  where  he  had 
wounded  Captain  Larmagne,  and  an  involuntary  shudder 
crept  over  him. 

"  Turn  back  !  " — exclaimed  the  old  woman,  "  once 
more." 

"Wretched  woman!" — said  Florian — "must  thou  be 
the  last  whom  I  am  to  see  on  these  heights,  as  thou  wast 
the  first  who  came  to  meet  mo  on  Le  Gros  Taureau  ? 
Away  !  and  suffer  me  to  go  on  unmolested.  What  have  I 
to  do  with  thee,  that  thou  art  meddling  with  my  fate  1 " 

"Not  a  step  farther  !  " — answered  the  sybil. 

"Why  ?  " — rejoined  the  fugitive. 

"  They  seek  thee  !  " — said  Mother  Morne. 

"Who  seek  me  1 " — asked  the  Grison. 

"  Vengeance  and  Death," — vociferated  the  wandering 
seer. 

"  So  much  the  better  " — exclaimed  Florian  ;  and  he 
pushed  the  old  woman,  who  was  about  to  obstruct  his  pas- 
sage, so  vehemently  aside,  that  she  could  not  keep  her  bal- 
ance, and  fell  to  the  earth.  He  walked  down  the  mountain, 
through  the  wood,  on  the  way  from  La  C6te-aux-Fees  to 
Les  Verrieres.  He  experienced  some  satisfaction  at  hav- 
ing found  this  road.  It  seemed  to  him  a  work  of  provi- 
dence to  fly  immediately  from  that  place.  The  carriage 
which  George  had  bespoken,  and  furnished  with  necessary 
articles  to  convey  him  to  Boudry,  was  still  waiting  for  him. 
He  had  not  gone  far  when  his  attention  was  aroused  by  the 
sound  of  human  voices.  Florian  recognised  distinctly  that 
of  Professor  Onyx.    Soon  afterward,  several  men  ascend- 


146 


FLORIAI*  : 


ing  the  mountain  with  luggage,  emerged  from  behind  the 
trees.  They  greeted  the  fugitive  politely,  and  passed  on. 
Soon  after,  he  saw  Professor  Onyx  in  company  with  a  man 
wearing  a  military  cloak  and  hat,  followed  by  a  servant, 
leading  his  horse. 

"See  there,  our  most  estimable  friend" — exclaimed 
the  professor,  pointing  to  Florian. — "  Come  hither,  friend 
of  my  soul.  We  have  this  moment  been  speaking  of  you. 
Did  not  Mother  Morne  tell  you  we  were  coming  1  The  wo- 
man ran  like  a  frantic  creature  to  announce  us,  I  suppose  ; 
but  unless  she  rode  like  a  witch  upon  a  broom,  it  is  impos- 
sible for  her  to  have  reached  Madam  Bell's  or  Mr.  Standard's 
house.  So  we  must  thank  an  accident  for  meeting  you. 
See  here,  best  of  friends  !  this  gentleman  is  desirous  of 
making  your  acquaintance.  I  almost  suspect  you  of  being 
a  very  distinguished  person,  incognito" 

As  Mr.  Onyx  hailed  him  from  a  distance,  Florian 
had  approached  the  gentleman  closely,  when  the  professor 
finished  his  address.  The  fugitive  and  the  professor  ex- 
changed a  cold  and  formal  bow. 

"  So  this  is  the  Grison  gentleman  that  escaped  from  the 
French  guards  who  escorted  him  towards  Besancon  ?  "  in- 
quired the  stranger — addressing  himself  to  the  professor. 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  exclaimed  Onyx  ;  and  then  turn- 
ing to  Florian,  he  added — "  No  person  can  convince  me 
to  the  contrary,  but  that  you  are  a  distinguished  person. 
For  to  whomsoever  I  mention  your  name,  he  is  sure  to  ex- 
press a  desire  of  seeing  you.  Tell  me,  I  pray  you,  on  what 
subject  have  you  written  your  best  work  ?  " 

"Allow  me,  professor,"  interrupted  his  companion,  "to 
speak  a  few  words  in  private  with  your  friend.  Do  me  the 
favour  to  conduct  the  people,  with  my  luggage,  to  the  house 
of  Madam  Bell ;  and  to  announce  my  speedy  arrival.  I 
shall  soon  follow." 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


147 


"  Oh  !  when  we  are  once  up  there,"  said  Professor 
Onyx,  "  you  can  again  mount  your  horse,  for  the  road  then 
is  tolerably  fine.  Did  we  not  live  here  in  a  land  of  savages, 
we  might  have  the  best  possible  carriage -road  from  Les 
Verrieres  to  La  Cote-aux-Fees.  Good  roads  go  farther 
towards  civilizing  a  nation  than  any  other  thing.  It  is 
said  that  commerce  makes  roads,  because  it  stands  in  need 
of  them.  False,  false  !  First  make  roads  to  facilitate  com- 
merce, and  the  land  will  soon  be  blooming  with  prosperity. 
But  here,  sir !  I  have  been  preaching  to  deaf  ears.  All 
my  admonitions  are  like  pearls  cast  before  swine." 

"  Very  good  !  excellent  professor,"  said  the  stranger  ; 
"  but  I  think  we  can  better  settle  that  point  at  La  Cote-aux- 
Fees.  At  present,  however,  you  will  much  oblige  me,  by 
conducting  those  men  who  already  are  far  in  advance  of 
you  to  Madam  Bell's  ;  will  you  do  me  that  favour  1  " 

"  Most  willingly,  most  willingly,"  replied  the  professor  ; 
"  and  as  soon  as  you  arrive  there,  I  will  explain  to  you  my 
theory  for  constructing  mountain  roads."  The  professor 
hastened  away. 

In  the  meantime,  Florian  had  scanned  the  officer,  as  he 
appeared  to  be,  from  head  to  foot ;  but  he  could  not  recol- 
lect that  he  ever  before  had  seen  him.  He  was  a  large, 
muscular  man,  with  a  broad  breast,  and  about  fifty  years 
of  age.  His  countenance,  a  little  bronzed  by  the  sun,  was 
noble  and  expressive  ;  and  his  voice  well-toned,  but  his 
manner  somewhat  abrupt  and  imperious. 

"  We  once  knew  each  other,"  he  said  to  Florian,  when 
the  professor  was  out  of  hearing. 

"  I  do  not  remember  that  I  ever  had  that  honour,"  replied 
Florian. 

"  But  I  do.  So  much  the  better !  "  responded  the 
officer,  and  threw  a  meaning  look  at  Florian.  Then  turn- 
ing to  his  servant,  he  said, — "  Take  off  my  cloak,  I  am  too 


148 


FLORIAN  : 


warm."  The  servant  obeyed  the  command.  As  the  cloak 
was  falling  off  his  shoulders,  Florian  also  recognised  the 
stranger,  who  now  stood  before  him  in  the  uniform  of  a 
French  chef-de-brigade,  with  the  right  sleeve  of  his  coat 
fastened  at  the  extreme  end  to  the  breast-buttons. 

"  You  are  Colonel  Despars  !  "  said  Florian,  in  joyful 
surprise. 

"  So  you  recognise  me  !  "  answered  Despars ;  "  you  have 
left  me  a  memorial  by  which  I  shall  remember  you  as  long 
as  I  live.  But  go  on,  sir,  this  is  not  the  place  to  settle  our 
business  ;  I  must  therefore  request  you  to  accompany  me." 

"  If  you  desire  it,  certainly,"  replied  the  fugitive. 

"  Desire  it,  nay,  I  command  it,"  said  the  colonel,  taking 
a  pistol  out  of  one  the  holsters  of  the  saddle. — You  shall 
not  escape  me,  and  if  you  attempt  it,  I  will  send  a  bullet 
through  your  brains." 

"  I  fear  neither  you  nor  your  bullets,  colonel ; "  said 
Florian,  and  he  returned  with  the  officer  towards  La  Cote- 
aux-Fees. — "  There  is  also  a  great  deal  that  I  would  say  to 
you.  I  lament  my  misfortune  which  enjoined  on  me  the 
necessity  of  crippling  you.  On  your  account  I  have  lost 
my  liberty,  my  country,  and  my  highest  happiness.  But  I 
feel  delighted  that  I  have  not  innocently  deprived  you  of 
life.  I  rejoice  that  the  report  by  which  you  were  said  to 
be  dead  is  unfounded." 

"  You  have  no  cause  for  joy,"  muttered  the  colonel  be- 
tween his  teeth. 

"  More  than  you  believe  or  know,"  retorted  the  Grison. 

"  How  so  ? "  inquired  Despars. 

"  Mademoiselle  Delory,  your  daughter-in-law,  is  nearly 
desperate.  She  considers  me  the  murderer  of  a  father 
whom  she  loves  above  all  things.  For  that  very  reason  I 
was  even  now  on  my  way  leaving  this  country,  out  of  which 
I  am  banished  by  her  command.    God  be  praised  that  you 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


149 


are  still  living  !  I  shall  now  go  hence  with  a  more  tranquil 
mind." 

The  colonel  was  anxious  to  know  what  relation  could 
subsist  between  Florian  and  his  daughter-in-law.  The 
Grison  spoke  frankly  and  fearlessly,  but  with  that  respect 
due  to  the  man  whom  Hermione  called  father.  The  colonel 
with  a  stern  look  scrutinized  the  young  Grison.  He  then 
walked  on,  asked  a  few  questions,  and  Florian  acquainted 
him  with  all  that  had  occurred. 

"  This  is  a  romance  ! "  said  the  colonel,  standing  still 
again  ;  but  his  look  became  less  stern.  He  examined  the 
narrator  deliberately.  The  strength,  fearlessness,  and 
handsome  figure  of  the  young  man,  the  firmness  and 
decision  of  his  character,  made  a  great  impression  on  the 
heart  of  the  warrior. 

"  It  is  well !  I  consider  you  a  man  of  honour"  said  the 
colonel. — "  My  daughter  could  not  have  thrown  away  her 
regards  on  a  villain.  Be  it  so,  I  will  now  treat  you  as  a 
man  of  honour  !  My  intention  was  to  have  you  arrested  by 
the  magistrate  of  this  district,  and  to  reclaim  your  person 
from  the  government  of  Neufchatel,  because  you  made  your 
escape,  and  ought  to  be  tried  by  a  French  court-martial. 
You  are  one  of  the  assassins  of  Disentis."  * 

Florian  disclaimed  having  taken  any  part  either  in  the 
massacre  of  the  French,  or  in  the  Landsturm  ;  adding, — 
"  Although  I  am  now  under  the  especial  protection  of  the 
governor  of  Neufchatel,  I  fear  not  any  tribunal,  even  were 
this  not  so." 

"  But  me,  sir,  you  must  fear,"  exclaimed  Despars,  "  and 
this  left  hand  must  revenge  the  right  arm  that  is  in  the 
grave  !  I  have  sworn  ten  thousand  times  that  you  shall 
die  ;  that  one  only  oath  would  I  joyfully  have  kept.  Your 
evil  star  has  led  you  in  my  way  !  Do  you  know  how  to 
handle  pistols  ? " 


150 


FLOEIAN  : 


"  Certainly.  But  I  shall  not  fight  with  Hermione'g 
father-in-law,"  sternly  answered  the  fugitive. 

"  Young  man,  I  shall  be  under  the  necessity  of  teaching 
you  obedience,"  added  Despars — "  If  you  are  a  coward,  I 
will  shoot  you  as  I  would  a  mad  dog." 

With  these  words  he  walked  to  the  side  of  his  horse, 
drew  a  pair  of  pistols  out  of  the  holsters,  told  the  servant  to 
take  care  of  the  others,  and  offering  one  of  them  to  his 
opponent,  said, — "  Your  choice,  sir  ;  both  are  equally  good 
and  well  loaded.  Take  your  choice,  sir,  take  a  pistol,  or  else 
I  deal  with  you,  as  I  would  with  a  blackguard  street  boy." 

"  You  may  shoot  me,  sir  ;  but  I  shall  never  level  a  pistol 
at  you,"  said  Florian,  very  composedly — "  I  care  not 
for  my  own  life  ;  but  every  thing  for  yours." 

"  How  ?  has  Hermione  shown  attention  to  a  man  who 
has  not  the  courage  to  give  satisfaction  to  a  man  of  honour  ?  " 
asked  Despars. — "  You  are  right,  colonel !  "  retorted  the 
Grison,  "you  demand  satisfaction  for  the  loss  of  your  arm  ; 
but  you  lost  that  arm  in  an  ignoble  quarrel.  You  demand 
satisfaction.  Very  well ;  here  is  my  head,  or  my  breast, 
bare  for  your  shot,  fire  !  " — He  then  took  one  of  the  pistols. 
The  colonel  walked  a  few  paces  towards  the  opening 
among  the  bushes  where  the  other  rencontre  had  taken 
place  on  that  same  morning.  Despars  saw  the  blood  that 
had  flowed  from  Larmagne's  wounds  ;  and  in  tones  of 
surprise,  asked — "  What  is  this  ?    I  see  fresh  blood." 

"  It  is  the  blood  of  your  friend,  Captain  Larmagne,"  said 
Florian.  "  A  few  hours  since  he  forced  me  to  defend  myself, 
as  you  would  do  now." 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  cried  Despars,  turning  pale. 

"  He  lies  wounded  at  Madam  Bell's  house,"  answered 
the  fugitive. 

"  Well,  then,  accursed  villain,  here  is  a  double  vengeance 
to  be  satisfied ;  and  either  you  or  I  must  fall,"  exclaimed 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


151 


the  colonel,  taking  his  position. — "  Allons  !  no  time  shall 
be  lost.    I  am  ready — the  first  fire  is  yours — fire  !  " 

"  I  shall  not  fire  at  Hermione's  father-in-law,"  coolly 
remarked  the  Grison. 

"  I  will  fire  with  you  at  the  same  time,"  hastily  retorted 
Despars. 

"  You  will  not  compel  me  ?  "  said  Florian,  firing  his 
pistol  into  the  air. — "  Now,  it  is  your  turn." 

"  Young  man,  pray  a  -pater  nosier,  for  your  time  is  come  !  " 
Despars  angrily  vociferated.  The  colonel  dropped  his 
pistol,  and  seemed  for  a  moment  to  relent — then  raised  it 
again  and  took  his  aim.  Florian,  when  he  saw  it,  said, — 
"  Take  sure  aim,  and  give  my  last  greeting  to  Mademoiselle 
Delory." 

The  colonel  fired,  and  the  bullet  passed  close  by  the  Gri- 
son's  head — "You  are  a  bad  marksman" — said  Florian. 

"  What !  " — exclaimed  Despars — "  I  miss  my  aim  at 
twenty  paces  ]    Give  me  the  others." 

He  took  the  pistols  out  of  the  servant's  hands,  and  told 
Florian  to  take  his  choice.  Once  more  he  took  his  first 
position,  and  commanded  his  antagonist  to  fire. 

"  Look  over  head " — said  Florian,  pointing  to  a  crow 
that  flew  high  in  the  air.  The  Grison  fired,  and  the  bird 
fell  between  them. 

"  Well  done  !  " — said  Despars,  looking  at  the  bird,  as  it 
lay  fluttering  and  beating  its  wings  in  the  agonies  of  death. 

"  I  could  hit  a  dollar  between  your  fingers  without  doing 
you  the  least  possible  injury" — said  Florian — "  I  now  await 
your  fire.    Give  my  greetings  to  your  daughter." 

Despars  seemed  embarrassed.  He  took  a  long,  deliber- 
ate aim,  and  fired.  The  ball  passed  through  Florian's  hat, 
which  fell  off  his  head.  "  You  aim  too  high  !  " — said  Flo- 
rian, taking  up  his  hat  from  the  ground,  and  apparently 
without  any  emotion,  examining  the  hole  s  made  by  the  bullet. 


152 


FLORIAN  : 


*'  What !  " — cried  the  colonel,  with  great  consternation — 
"  am  I  bewitched,  or  are  you  bullet  proof?  But  I  cannot 
do  anything  with  this  left  arm." 

"  Load  again  " — said  Florian,  with  perfect  sang-froid — 
"  we  stand  too  far  apart.  Place,  the  next  time,  the  muzzle 
close  to  my  heart." 

The  dying  crow  struck  the  colonel's  feet  with  its  wings. 
He  called  to  the  servant  to  pull  a  feather  for  him  out  of  its 
wing.  Florian  however  was  swifter  than  the  servant,  and 
gave  the  colonel  what  he  desired. 

"  The  bird  died  for  me  !  " — said  Despars — "  I  therefore 
shall  keep  this  feather,  as  a  token  of  remembrance.  You 
crippled  me — I  would  have  satisfaction  for  the  loss  of  my 
right  arm,  and  you  have  given  it  to  me.  Accompany  me 
to  Madam  Bell's  house.    Is  Larmagne  badly  wounded?" 

"  Not  dangerously.  At  first,  however,  he  suffered  much 
from  the  loss  of  blood  " — replied  Florian.  The  colonel  hav- 
ing desired  to  know  the  particulars,  received  a  minute  de- 
tail of  the  whole  transaction. 

"  Accompany  me  !  " — said  Despars — "  Hermione  suffers 
her  imagination  to  get  the  better  of  her  reason.  She  has 
banished  you,  because  she  fancied  you  her  father's  murder- 
er. But  I  shall  tell  her  that  I  still  enjoy  life,  as  the  result 
of  your  magnanimity."  The  pistols  were  put  away.  The 
servant  in  advance  led  the  horses,  and  Florian,  with  the 
colonel,  followed. 

Despars  made  inquiry  with  regard  to  Florian's  circum- 
stances in  the  Grisons.  They  talked  of  the  insurrections, 
and  of  the  deplorable  condition  of  the  country,  and  then  of 
Hermione.  Despars  often  stood  still,  to  express  his  aston- 
ishment, or  his  approval,  or  to  give  vent  to  his  anger  by 
muttering  an  oath  against  himself,  or  against  Larmagne, 
or  against  the  professor,  and  his  blasting  of  rocks  in  the 
fairies'  temple. 


THE   FUGITIVE   OF  THE  JURA. 


153 


"  Young  man  !  " — exclaimed  the  colonel,  stopping  again 
— M  you  have  lived  a  desperate  romance  !  I  alone  have 
fared  the  worse  for  it,  as  I  have  become  a  maimed  man. 
But  I  cannot  refuse  giving  you  my  respect.  We  must  be- 
come better  acquainted  with  each  other." 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

The  Catastrophe. 

They  were  not  far  from  the  house,  when  nearly  all  its  in- 
habitants, Madam  Bell,  Claudine,  Hermione,  George,  Fa- 
ther Standard,  and  Professor  Onyx,  hurried  out  to  meet  them ; 
Hermione  in  advance  of  them  ail.  Her  face  glowed  with 
ecstasy,  her  lips  quivered,  and  her  eyes  glistened  with  tears. 
She  flew  towards  her  step-father,  and  with  an  "  Oh  !  " — ris- 
ing out  of  the  deepest  depths  of  her  bosom,  she  clasped  him 
in  her  arms,  while  all  the  others  surrounded  and  welcomed 
him  as  a  familiar  friend,  with  heartfelt  congratulations. 

"Let  these  people  give  free  scope  to  their  feelings,  and 
enjoy  themselves  to  their  heart's  content" — said  Father 
Staffard  to  George  and  Florian. — "  Meanwhile  we  will  go 
home,  where  we  three  shall  have  to  tell  one  another  more 
than  enough.  Here  we  are  altogether  superfluous,  and 
shall  only  check  the  stream  of  their  joy." 

"No,  no!"  exclaimed  Madam  Bell — " never,  my  dear 
neighbour.  If  terrors  and  horrors  hove  brought  us  togeth- 
er, joy  should  not  separate  us.  You  must  remain,  and  par- 
take of  our  simple  feast,  but  the  most  peaceful  one  in  all  the 
principality.  Away  !  and  let  us  two  be  the  first  in  the  pro- 
cession." With  these  words,  she  took  Father  StafFard's 
arm,  and  walked  into  the  house.  The  others  slowly  fol- 
lowed— Florian  alone  remaining  behind. 

"Halloo!" — cried  Despars,  looking  back — "must  this 
8 


154  FLORIAIV  I  THE  FUGITIVE  OF  THE  JURA. 

banished  one  still  be  separated  from  our  joys  ?  Hermione, 
he  bids  fair  to  become  my  right  arm.  He  must  not  be  ex- 
cluded from  our  festivity.  Go,  my  child,  and  lead  him  in 
by  force,  if  persuasion  will  not  avail  with  him." 

Hermione  obeyed  her  father's  command,  and  arm  in  arm, 
they  followed  the  others  into  the  mansion. 

By  numerous  questions  and  answers,  recapitulations  and 
interruptions,  light  was  diffused  over  all  that  had  happened. 
De spars  conducted  Hermione  into  the  garden,  and  held  a 
long  conversation  with  her.  When  he  returned,  he  took 
Staffard  on  one  side,  and  held  a  secret  conversation  with 
him. 

"  i"  see  very  clearly  that  this  Grison  must  become  my  right 
arm" — cried  the  colonel.  As  they  sat  down  to  the  table, 
he  arranged  it  so  that  Hermione  was  placed  between  him 
and  Florian.  When  his  health  was  drank,  he  cried — "  No, 
the  hero  of  the  day  is  this  Fugitive  of  the  Jura  !  Both  my 
friend  Larmagne  and  myself  are  indebted  to  him  for  our 
lives  ;  and  though  he  were  less  wealthy,  he  would  be  no 
less  worthy  of  your  love,  Hermione  !  Even  when  in  his 
own  village  he  crippled  me,  he  did  only  what  was  right ! 
Therefore,  my  child,  give  him  your  bridal  kiss  ! " 

At  that  moment  Mother  Morne's  gray  head  appeared  at 
the  half-opened  door.  With  a  hasty  glance,  she  examined 
the  guests  at  the  table,  and  then  nodding  to  them  in  a  friend- 
ly manner,  she  devoutly  uttered — "  God  hath  done  all  things 

wear* 


MARBLE  AND  CONRAD: 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE. 

CHAPTER  I. 

Early  Years  of  Marble. 

Many  strange  characteristics  and  practical  odditief  are 
narrated  of  a  person,  .whose  name  I  dare  not  mention  ;  but 
as  he  must  have  an  appellative,  we  will  call  him  Marble. 
One  of  his  eccentricities,  which  was  most  salutary  in  its 
consequences,  should  be  universally  known. 

Marble  was  a  straight-forward  man,  of  plain  sense, 
without  arrogance,  without  any  desire  to  distinguish  himself, 
and  honest  in  all  his  actions.  The  people  considered 
him  a  kind  of  fool,  with  whom  not  much  could  be  done  ; 
but  he  was  not  at  all  offended  with  them.  "  Those  people," 
he  said,  "  are  perfectly  right.  I  live  according  to  my  own 
convictions.  That  appears  astonishing.  But  they  live  ac- 
cording to  the  opinions  of  others,  and  so  they  swim  with 
the  stream,  and  appear  not  to  be  eccentric.  They  not  only 
clothe  themselves  in  the  newest  fashion,  but  they  also  eat 
according  to  fashion  ;  therefore,  even  an  oyster  can  tickle 
their  palates.  They  are  educated  according  to  the  newest 
fashion.  They  instruct,  judge,  think,  reproach,  laud,  and 
act  in  everything  according  to  fashion,  and  not  according 
to  their  own  better  understanding  and  feelings.  Therefore, 
the  characters  of  those  people  are  so  entirely  similar,  that 
it  seems  as  if  they  no  longer  had  any  character  at  all !  " 


156 


MARBLE  AND  CONRAD  : 


Mr.  Marble  was  a  very  wealthy  man,  although  he  had 
commenced  life  with  nothing.  When  a  boy,  he  had  served 
as  a  porter  in  a  rich  mercantile  house  in  Hamburg,  where 
by  degrees  he  was  employed  in  important  transactions,  and 
had  several  times  been  sent  to  the  East  Indies.  He  after- 
wards commenced  a  small  business  on  his  own  account, 
which  by  degrees  became  very  extensive. 

In  order  to  have  while  travelling  a  trusty  overseer  over 
his  property,  he  married  a  virtuous  orphan  girl  who  had 
been  discarded  by  all  her  associates.  The  girl  was  sitting 
on  a  stile,  weeping,  when  he  casually  passed  through  a 
little  country  town.  He  asked  her — "  What  ails  thee  1  " 
"  My  mother  has  died,  and  they  have  driven  me  out  of  the 
house."  Marble  replied — "  Come  along  with  me.  I  will 
help  thee."  The  girl  ran  by  the  side  of  his  horse  until 
they  arrived  in  the  neighbouring  city,  whence  he  had  her 
conveyed  to  his  home.  For  six  months  the  girl  conducted 
his  household  affairs,  and  then  he  married  her. 

"  You  are  a  fool !  " — said  his  friends. — "  You  can  marry 
the  handsomest  and  richest  girl  anywhere,  if  you  choose  ; 
but  to  take  such  a  thing  from  the  road,  and  marry  her  !  " 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourselves  on  that  account  " — retorted 
Marble  ;  " — I  selected  what  was  best  for  myself — the  most 
virtuous  girl." 

When  he  had  become  rich,  he  withdrew  suddenly  from 
business,  lent  out  his  money  on  secure  interest,  and  retired 
to  his  leisure.  "You  are  a  fool!" — said  his  friends. — 
"  Scarcely  forty-five  years  old,  and  already  retire  from  busi- 
ness ;  just  at  the  time  when  you  might  make  immense  specu- 
lations, for  you  have  both  the  experience  and  the  means." 

"  Trouble  not  yourselves  on  that  account  " — said  Marble. 
"  I  will  now  eat  the  bread  I  have  earned." 

Although  he  was  very  rich,  the  house  he  lived  in  was 
very  small,  and  furnished  in  the  simplest  manner.    In  his 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE.  157 

dress  he  observed  the  same  kind  of  simplicity.  He  kept 
neither  carriage  nor  horses,  and  gave  no  dinners.  Every 
tradesman  in  the  city  lived  better  than  he.  On  the  con- 
trary, when  he  was  in  the  humour — and  he  had  that  humour 
very  often — he  made  large  donations  to  the  common  people. 
He  would  have  young  people  married  at  his  own  expense, 
and  would  give  them  a  dowry.  He  ransomed  the  most  pro- 
mising sons  of  citizens  from  military  service,  and  paid  law- 
yers to  defend  the  cause  and  rights  of  oppressed  persons, 
who  were  perfect  strangers  to  him.  Thus  he  meddled 
everywhere  with  the  affairs  of  others,  and  spent  large  sums 
of  money.  But  when  men  of  rank  and  property  came  to 
borrow  money  of  him,  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  said 
he  had  none.  "  You  are  a  fool  " — said  his  friends — "  and 
do  not  know  how  to  use  your  wealth.  Live  in  a  fashion- 
able style,  and  the  first  families  in  the  city,  and  the  most 
noted  men  at  court  will  be  your  friends.  Do  you  wish  for 
a  title  ?  Do  you  want  a  patent  of  nobility  ?  Wherefore 
are  you  rich  1  Surely  not  on  account  of  that  pack  of  pau- 
pers, with  whom  you  are  continually  holding  intercourse  ?  " 

"Do  not  trouble  yourselves  on  that  account" — said 
Marble. — "  I  am  poorer  than  you  think.  I  must  not  squan- 
der a  penny,  since  I  have  necessary  uses  for  all  the  money 
that  I  can  command." 

"  It  is  impossible  !  " — they  retorted. — "  You  must  have 
an  annual  income  at  least  of  thirty  thousand  florins  ?  " 

"  May  be  " — answered  Marble — "  but  I  need  two  thou- 
sand florins  of  it  for  my  own  household ;  and  the  balance 
belongs  to  those  who  have  not  enough.  God  has  made  me 
the  administrator  of  those  poor  people." 

Mr.  Marble  lost  in  one  year,  and  by  the  same  disease, 
his  amiable  wife  and  two  lovely  children.  He  was  again 
alone.  His  friends  endeavoured  to  divert  and  exhilarate 
him.     "  Trouble  not  yourselves  on  that  account " — he 


158 


MARBLE  AND  CONRAD  : 


said. — "I  am  anything  but  sad,  for  I  enjoy  more  real  hap- 
piness than  I  formerly  did.  I  now  live  in  two  worlds.  My 
wife  and  children  are  mine  everywhere,  and  I  am  theirs. 
Whosoever  needs  consolation  for  the  highest  phenomenon 
this  life  shows,  is  only  inconsolable  for  not  being  a  beast. 
I  pray  you,  do  not  act  your  jokes  with  me  ;  do  not  try  to 
console  me." 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  Hurricane. 

The  loss  of  his  wife  and  children  however,  had  made  this 
world  almost  desolate,  and  life  itself  a  little  irksome  to  Mr. 
Marble.  He  felt  lonesome  everywhere,  and  often  travelled 
to  dissipate  his  gloominess.  This  availed  for  the  moment. 
He  often  departed  with  eyes  red  with  weeping,  out  of  his 
little  study.  Then  his  servants  would  look  at  him  with 
heartfelt  pity,  for  they  loved  him  like  a  father.  "  You  are 
right,  children,  pity  me  !  for  I  deserve  it,  but  do  not  con- 
sole me.  Pity  I  need,  but  not  consolation.  I  can  find  better 
consolation  within  myself,  than  you  can  give  ;  but  human 
sorrow,  and  the  loss  of  those  whom  we  have  loved — all  this, 
time  will  assuage,  although  it  has  not  done  so  yet." 

He  felt  that  if  it  were  possible  for  him  to  divert  himself, 
it  would  be  of  the  greatest  benefit  to  him.  He  therefore 
visited  every  public  place  around  the  whole  city,  and  was  on 
all  the  promenades.  On  a  certain  time  he  was  in  the  park, 
when  many  persons,  as  is  customary  on  fine  summer  days, 
were  amusing  themselves  on  the  green.  To  be  in  the 
stirring  tumult  of  the  joyous,  had  always  a  salutary  effect 
on  Mr.  Marble.  But  the  amusements  of  that  day  were  in- 
terrupted by  a  thunder-storm,  which  was  preceded  by  a 
hurricane.    The  tall  trees  waved  to  and  fro  like  thin 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE. 


159 


straws,  and  rustled  in  the  wind  ;  the  booths  were  closed  ; 
the  traders  packed  up  ;  the  music  in  the  bushes  was 
hushed  ;  and  the  dancers  dispersed. 

Mr.  Marble  remained,  and  stood  tranquil  amid  the 
voice  of  the  storm  and  the  people.  He  felt  delighted  with 
the  aspect.  The  broad  walks  were  soon  cleared,  and 
whirlwinds  blew  up  clouds  of  dust.  At  that  moment  the 
young  Countess  Emilie  came  running  on  a  by-path,  out  of 
the  pleasure  grounds.  At  her  side  were  some  attendants, 
and  behind  her  a  few  officers,  who  had  much  trouble  to  pro- 
tect the  plumes  of  their  hats  from  the  assaults  of  the  wind. 
Suddenly  the  storm  and  whirlwind  swept  over  them.  The 
veil  of  the  countess  flew  high  into  the  air.  Terrified,  she 
reached  out  her  arms,  endeavouring  to  catch  the  lost  orna- 
ment. The  veil  remained  hanging  like  a  cobweb,  on  the 
top  of  a  large  fir  tree. 

"  Get  me  my  veil  again  !  " — said  the  countess. — "  Oh  ! 
get  me  my  veil  again.  I  must  have  it.  It  is  a  New-year's 
gift  from  my  mother.    I  prize  it  above  all  things." 

The  gentlemen  held  fast  to  their  large  hats  and  plumes, 
and  shrugged  their  shoulders. 

"  I  must  have  it  again,  and  should  I  perish  here,  I  de- 
clare that  I  will  not  move  an  inch  from  this  spot  until  I 
have  it," — said  the  countess,  and  her  eyes  were  filled  with 
tears. 

The  gentlemen  looked  up  into  the  top  of  the  fir  tree  with 
bitter  embarrassment.  One  sighed,  the  other  scratched 
himself  in  the  neck,  the  third  in  his  desperation  took  a 
pinch  of  snuff,  the  fourth  bowed  silently,  as  if  by  that  he 
wished  to  express  the  impossibility  of  fulfilling  the  princely 
demand. 

"  Have  you  not  often  sworn  that  you  would  risk  your 
lives  for  me  ;  and  why  will  not  one  of  you  climb  this  tree? 
It  is  not  at  all  difficult  from  below.    Captain,  you  are  the 


160 


MARBLE  AIND  CONHAD  : 


youngest :  try  to  get  me  the  veil !  "  exclaimed  Emilie, 
weeping. 

The  captain,  with  a  countenance  of  terror,  looked  at  his 
white  cassimere  pantaloons,  and  then  at  the  tall  fir  tree — 
it  measured  about  seventy  feet.  He  made  a  movement,  as 
if  to  prepare  himself  for  the  dangerous  enterprise,  and 
coughed,  but  would  not  stir  from  the  spot. 

Besides  Mr.  Marble,  a  ragged  beggar  boy,  about  twelve 
years  of  age,  who  stood  not  far  off,  overheard  the  con- 
versation. "  If  you  wish  it,  I  will  get  that  thing  up  there 
for  you,"  said  the  boy,  and  he  measured  the  height  of  the 
fir-tree  with  a  quick  eye. 

"  Allons  !  get  yourself  up  quickly,"  exclaimed  all  the  at- 
tendants of  the  countess  simultaneously,  in  a  loud  tone  of 
voice. 

The  boy  did  not  hesitate.  He  climbed  upward  from 
branch  to  branch,  parting  the  smaller  branches  with  his 
hands,  and  was  not  seen  for  some  time,  until  at  last  he  ap- 
peared in  the  top  of  the  tree.  The  storm  blew  afresh,  and 
threw  the  trees  whizzingly  together.  The  boy  clasped  firm- 
ly the  slim  top  of  the  fir,  as  it  waved  about  with  him  in 
wide  circles.  Mr.  Marble  trembled  when  he  saw  it.  The 
officers  laughed,  and  the  countess  jumped  high  for  joy,  when 
she  saw  her  veil  in  the  hand  of  the  daring  boy.  "  Oh  ! 
that  the  awkward  boy  may  not  tear  it !  "  she  said  again, 
with  renewed  anxiety. 

Without  any  accident  having  happened  either  to  him  or 
the  veil,  the  boy  came  down  from  the  tree.  "  God  be 
praised!  "  said  the  countess,  and  she  skipped  joyously 
away,  to  save  herself  from  the  storm.  Her  companions 
hurried  after  her.  The  boy  ran  with  an  open  hand,  and 
begged  for  alms.  A  small  coin  was  thrown  to  him.  The 
boy  picked  it  up  from  the  ground,  and  looked  at  its  value. 

Mr.  Marble,  though  otherwise  not  curious,  however,  was 


MEND  THE   HOLE   IN  YOUR  SLEEVE. 


161 


so  at  that  time  ;  for  the  boy's  open  countenance,  his  friendly 
manner,  and  his  courage,  had  pleased  him.  lie  had  also 
his  hand  in  his  pocket  for  the  purpose  of  rewarding  him 
for  his  daring  feat. 

"  How  much  did  they  give  thee  ?  "  he  asked.  The  boy 
showed  him  the  money  in  his  open  hand,  that  was  soiled 
by  the  bark  of  the  fir,  and  wounded  by  its  branches — "  Five 
pence,  sir  !  " 

"  Five  pence  !  "  exclaimed  Marble.  "  My  poor  boy !  " 
He  took  out  a  handful  of  small  coin,  and  filled  both  the  hands 
of  the  boy,  who,  quite  astonished  at  his  wealth,  now  looked 
with  amazement  at  the  money,  then  at  his  benefactor,  and 
at  last  asked — "  Is  this  all  for  me  ? " 

"All ;  and  what  wilt  thou  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  !  I  will  buy  new  clothes.  I  now  can 
live  like  a  gentleman." 

"  Hast  thou  a  father?" 

"  No,  sir.  My  father  was  a  soldier,  and  was  killed  two 
years  ago  in  battle.  My  mother  also,  is  dead ;  and  now 
they  will  not  permit  me  to  stay  any  longer  in  the  vil- 
lage."_ 

"  Give  me  the  money  back  again,  boy ! " — said  Marble. 

The  boy  returned  the  money  with  a  sad  countenance, 
and  a  few  tears  obscured  the  brilliancy  of  his  large  black 
eyes. 

"  Give  me  also  the  five  pence," — continued  Marble. 

"  No,  they  are  mine," — retorted  the  lad. 

"  Thou  shalt  no  longer  stand  in  need  of  money.  It  is 
not  good  for  thee.  I  will  take  thee  with  me  to  my  house. 
Thou  shalt  become  my  son,  if  thou  wilt  behave  well. 
Wilt  thou  do  it  1  "—asked  Marble. 

"  Yes,  sir,  if  you  are  serious," — answered  the  boy. 

"  Hast  thou  any  more  money  1  " — inquired  Marble. 

The  boy  had  a  few  more  pence,  and  a  large  piece  of 
8* 


162 


MARBLE  AND  CONRAD : 


bread  in  his  pocket.  Mr.  Marble  took  it  away  from  him, 
and  told  him  to  accompany  him. 

CHAPTER  III. 
Education. 

The  little  Conrad  Eck  received  in  place  of  his  ragged  and 
filthy  clothing,  a  plain  garment,  made  of  coarse  cloth. 
He  had  been  in  the  habit  of  passing  his  nights  in  stables 
and  in  the  open  air.  The  wealthy  Mr.  Marble  gave  him 
a  straw  sack  to  sleep  upon,  and  the  plainest  food  to  eat. 
The  boy  felt  as  happy  as  though  he  were  in  a  palace.  He 
was  active,  obliging,  always  friendly,  assiduous,  devoted, 
and  evinced  much  natural  sense,  but  he  was  ignorant  of  every 
thing  except  the  experience  and  business  of  a  beggar. 
After  six  months,  the  young  cub  had  been  so  far  licked,  that 
he  could  be  shown  to  the  world,  and  be  sent  on  errands. 
He  had  accustomed  himself,  although  with  great  exertion, 
to  order  and  cleanliness.  Every  one  in  the  whole  house 
loved  him  on  account  of  his  good  disposition.  Mr.  Marble 
called  him  his  son,  and  having  resolved  to  make  some- 
thing of  him,  sent  him  to  school.  Conrad  was  industrious. 
At  first  he  had  some  difficulty  in  learning  his  lessons,  but 
eventually  he  surmounted  it.  His  highest  reward  was  to 
know  that  his  benefactor  was  pleased  with  his  progress  ; 
and  his  severest  punishment  was  Mr.  Marble's  disappro- 
bation. 

But  I  need  not  describe  the  education  of  the  beggar-boy. 
This  one  thing  only  I  will  mention,  since  it  depicts  Mr. 
Marble's  character.  Conrad,  after  having  lived  a  few 
years  in  Marble's  house,  was  permitted  to  sit  at  his  table. 
He  was  allowed  to  eat  of  all  the  dainties,  but  Mr.  Marble 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE.  163 

preferred  to  see  him  contented  without  luxurious  food.  Ho 
might  have  slept  in  soft  beds,  but  Mr.  Marble  was  pleased 
when  Conrad  remained  faithful  to  his  straw  sack.  Conrad 
received  every  week  one  dollar  pocket  money ;  but  he  was 
not  permitted  to  buy  anything  for  himself,  and  had  to  use 
it  for  the  benefit  of  others.  He  was  however  permitted  to 
save  some  of  it,  that  Conrad  might  not  be  in  want  when  Mr. 
Marble  had  nothing  more  to  give  him.  "  For  thyself  thou 
must  want  but  little,  and  use  but  little  ;  but  what  thou  hast, 
and  what  thou  dost,  must  be  for  the  benefit  of  others." 
This  lesson  his  benefactor  taught  him  on  every  occasion. 
When  Conrad  was  sixteen  years  old,  Mr.  Marble  gave  him 
four  hundred  dollars  as  a  birthday  gift.  "  Now,  my  dear 
Conrad,  we  will  separate  our  household.  There,  take  this 
money  !  Board  and  clothe  thyself  with  it,  pay  thy  teacher, 
procure  for  thyself  what  thou  wishest.  Thou  canst  live  in 
my  house,  but  thou  must  pay  me  every  three  months,  four 
dollars  for  room,  bed,  and  furniture.  Make  thine  own  ar- 
rangements ! " 

Conrad  was  astonished,  but  rejoiced  at  being  the  owner 
of  so  much  money.  He  arranged  his  room.  Every  month 
rendered  an  account  of  his  expenses.  Mr.  Marble  looked 
after  him  closely,  and  had  him  watched.  Conrad  lived  as 
Mr.  Marble  had  expected ;  penurious  as  a  miser  toward 
himself,  but  where  he  could  be  of  any  assistance,  lavishing 
like  a  prince.  At  the  end  of  the  year,  however,  he  had  a 
hundred  and  twenty  dollars  left.  Mr.  Marble  told  him  to 
lend  them  out  on  interest,  and  presented  him  another  sum 
of  four  hundred  dollars. 

Thus  matters  proceeded  until  Conrad  was  twenty  years 
of  age.  Mr.  Marble  then  sent  the  young  man  to  the  uni- 
versity, and  gave  him  a  fresh  supply  of  money.  "  Habitu- 
ate thy  body  to  nothing,  my  son,"  he  said  to  him,  "  but 
never  deny  to  it  what  is  becoming  and  necessary.  A 


164 


CONRAD  AND  MARBLE : 


good  artist  must  have  good  instruments ;  without  having 
these,  he  is  an  awkward  workman.  The  body  is  the  in- 
strument, the  artist  is  the  immortal  mind.  Furnish  that. 
Our  life  is  but  a  short  span  ;  it  is  the  school.  Cultivate 
thy  mind  and  heart ;  we  know  not  wherefore  we  must 
learn.  This  we  may  be  made  to  understand  in  eternity, 
where  our  Father  in  heaven  gives  us  a  greater  work  to 
perform.  For  the  three  years  thou  passest  at  the  universi- 
ty, I  will  settle  upon  thee  a  considerable  sum  of  money. 
Thou  wilt  have  use  for  it ;  for  thou  must  and  shalt  go  into 
society,  in  order  to  become  acquainted  with  all  kinds  of 
people.  If  thou  art  weak  and  bad,  thou  wilt  be  conquered. 
If  thou  art  strong-minded,  thou  wilt  stand  a  benefactor 
above  all.  In  three  years  after  this  time,  prepare  thyself 
to  earn  thine  own  bread.  Then  I  shall  give  thee  nothing 
more." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Hole  in  the  Sleeyu, 

wi  am  rich — what  is  generally  called  rich" — continued 
Mr.  Marble.  "  The  wealth  itself  does  not  make  me  happy, 
I  need  but  little  for  myself.  I  could  live  on  less  than  my 
servants.  Of  what  avail,  therefore,  is  money  to  me  ?  But 
it  makes  me  happy  to  know  that  I  have  accumulated  all 
my  wealth  by  mine  own  industry,  and  by  honest  means. 
No  blood,  no  tears  are  cleaving  to  it ;  but  my  sweat  alone. 
The  greatest  joys  the  soul  can  have  are  these  ;  active  ef- 
ficiency in  small  and  great  matters,  and  innocence.  Every 
thing  else  includes  more  or  less  of  stupidity  or  beastliness. 
For  example — ambition,  love  for  women,  love  of  gain,  love 
of  rule,  pride,  envy,  hatred,  or  religious  rancour.  Remem- 
ber this,  Conrad.    To  work  vigorously  and  innocently  in 


MEND  THE  IIOLE   IN   YOUR  SLEEVE. 


1G5 


great  and  small  matters,  is  the  pure,  real  spiritual  life. 
Do  not  despise  what  is  small,  as  if  it  were  trifling.  God 
has  created  nothing  in  vain.  His  grain  of  sand,  and  his 
worm,  both  are  great. 

"  I  have  given  thee  a  good  education.  Thou  wert  a  wild 
but  powerful  plant.  Now  thou  art  twenty  years  old  ;  an 
age  at  which  the  spiritual  is  at  war  with  the  animal  in 
man.  May  the  spiritual  gain  the  victory  !  Man  at  first  is 
reared  as  a  plant ;  then  as  an  animal ;  and  lastly  as  an 
angel.  Many  do  not  go  beyond  the  well-trained  animal. 
But  the  animal  should  not  be  despised.  Out  of  the  impure 
dust  the  snow-white  lily  shoots  forth.  A  trifling  accident 
led  me  into  the  right  path,  I  learned  to  sew,  and  that  made 
me  a  rich  man. 

"  Thou  mayest  perhaps  not  wish  to  credit  this — yet  it  is 
so.  I  was  fourteen  years  of  age,  I  could  read,  write,  and 
cipher.  Thus  far  I  was  trained.  I  was  the  son  of  a  poor 
tradesman.  My  father  knew  not  what  to  make  of  me  ; 
for  he  was  always  in  want  of  money ;  and  that  had  its 
reasons — which  now  are  very  clear  to  me. 

"  I  had  a  play-fellow  and  a  friend  in  my  youth.  His  name 
was  Alfred.  We  both  were  wild  and  ungovernable  boys. 
Our  garments  were  never  new,  for  they  were  very  soon 
soiled  and  torn.  We  were  punished  at  home  for  it,  but  no 
sooner  was  the  punishment  forgotten  than  it  was  the  same 
thing  again. 

"  One  day  we  were  sitting  in  a  public  garden  on  a  bench, 
telling  each  other  what  we  would  make  of  ourselves.  I 
wanted  to  become  a  lieutenant-general,  and  Alfred,  general 
superintendent. 

"  *  Both  of  you  will  never  be  anything  !  ' — said  a  very  old 
man  in  a  fine  dress  and  powdered  wig,  who  was  standing 
behind  the  bench,  and  had  overheard  our  childish  plans. 
We  were  frightened  : — Alfred  asked — *  why  not  1 ' — The 


166 


MARBLE  AND  CONRAD  : 


old  man  said — '  You  are  the  children  of  good  people, 
I  see  it  by  your  coats.    Both  of  you  are  born  to  be 

'beggars.  Were  it  not  so,  would  you  suffer  those  holes  in 
your  sleeves  ? '  Saying  this  he  took  both  of  us  by  the 
elbows,  and  thrust  his  lingers  in  the  holes  that  were  in  our 
sleeves.    I  felt  ashamed  ;  Alfred  also.    *  If, '  said  the  old 

'  man,  '  nobody  can  sew  it  up  for  you  at  home,  why  do  you 
not  learn  to  do  it  yourselves  ?  You  might  at  first  have  re- 
paired the  coat  with  two  stitches  of  the  needle  ;  now  it  is  too 
late,  and  ye  go  about  like  beggarly  boys.  If  you  wish  to 
become  lieutenant-general  and  general  superintendent, 
begin  with  the  smallest  things.  First,  sew  up  the  hole  in 
your  sleeves,  ye  beggar  boys  ;  then  you  may  think  of  some- 
thing  else.' 

"  We  both  felt  greatly  ashamed,  walked  silently  away, 
and  had  not  the  heart  to  say  anything  bad  about  the  austere 
old  man.  I  turned  the  elbow  of  my  coat  sleeve  in  such 
wise,  that  the  hole  could  not  be  seen  by  anybody.  I 
learned  to  sew  of  my  mother,  but  merely  in  a  playing 
manner,  for  I  did  not  tell  her  why  I  wished  to  learn  it. 
When  a  new  seam  opened  in  my  garments,  or  if  they 
happened  to  become  soiled,  I  repaired  it  forthwith.  Thus 
I  became  attentive.  I  did  not  even  suffer  any  uncleanliness 
to  be  seen  in  my  worn  clothing ;  and  as  I  became  more 
clean  and  careful  in  my  dress,  I  was  glad,  and  thought  that 
the  old  gentleman  in  the  snow-white  wig  was  not  greatly 
in  error.  With  two  stitches  at  the  proper  time,  we  can 
save  a  coat ;  with  a  handful  of  mortar,  a  house  ;  a  glass- 
full  of  water  will  quench  a  fire,  which  if  left  alone  would 
lay  a  whole  city  in  waste  ;  red  copper  coin  will  become 
silver  dollars  ;  and  little  seeds  will  become  trees,  who 
knows  how  large  ? 

"Alfred  did  not  take  it  so  much  to  heart,  and  it  proved  to 
his  own  detriment.    We  had  both  been  recommended  to  a 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE.  167 

merchant,  who  was  in  want  of  an  apprentice  well  ac- 
quainted with  writing  and  ciphering.  The  merchant 
examined  us,  and  gave  me  the  preference.  My  old  clothes 
were  whole  and  clean  ;  Alfred's  best  coat  gave  evidences 
of  negligence.  Afterwards  my  employer  said  to  me  :  '  I 
see  you  take  good  care  of  your  own,  but  Alfred  will  never 
be  a  merchant.'  Then  again  I  remembered  the  old 
gentleman  and  the  hole  in  the  sleeve  ! 

"  I  perceived  very  soon  that  I  still  had  in  many  other 
things,  in  my  knowledge,  in  my  behaviour,  in  my  inclina- 
tions, a  goodly  number  of  holes  in  the  sleeve  !  Two 
stitches  with  the  needle,  at  the  proper  time,  meliorate  all 
things  ;  else  the  tailor  is  needed  for  the  gown,  the  phy- 
sician for  health,  and  the  punishing  law  for  the  moral 
holes.  There  is  nothing  that  is  indifferent  or  insignificant, 
be  it  good  or  bad.  Who  thinks  so,  knows  neither  himself 
nor  life.  My  employer  had  also  a  horrible  hole  in  his 
sleeve,  for  he  was  obstinate,  quarrelsome,  despotic,  and 
capricious.  This  gave  me  oftentimes  a  great  deal  of  an- 
noyance. I  contradicted  ;  and  then  we  quarrelled.  'Hal- 
loo ! ' — I  thought,  'this  may  make  a  hole  in  the  sleeve,  and  I 
may  become  as  quarrelsome,  and  invidious,  and  unsociable 
as  my  employer.'  From  that  hour  I  let  him  have  his  way, 
and  I  was  contented  with  doing  what  was  right,  and  en- 
deavoured for  my  part  to  keep  the  peace. 

"  After  having  served  my  apprenticeship,  I  took  a  clerk- 
ship in  another  mercantile  house.  Habituated  to  be  happy 
even  with  the  mere  necessaries  of  life,  for  he  who  lives  in 
abundance  never  is  contented,  I  saved  a  considerable 
amount  of  money.  Accustomed  never  to  excuse  in  myself 
a  hole  in  the  sleeve,  and  to  look  with  charity  upon  those 
in  others'  sleeves,  the  whole  world  was  satisfied  with  me, 
and  I  with  the  world. — Thus  I  always  had  friends,  always 
assistance  when  I  stood  in  need  of  it ;  confidence  and 


168 


MARBLE   AND  CONRAD: 


employment.  God  blessed  all  my  undertakings  !  A  bless- 
ing lies  in  honest  actions  and  honest  thoughts,  as  in  the 
kernel,  the  fruit-bearing  tree. 

"  Thus  my  wealth  increased.  Wherefore  1  I  asked  my- 
self; you  do  not  need  the  twentieth  part  of  it. — Live  in  an 
ostentatious  style  for  other  people  to  envy  me  ? — That  is 
nonsense.  Shall  I  yet,  in  my  old  days,  show  a  hole  in  the 
sleeve  ? — Help  others,  as  God  through  others  has  helped 
you.  That  is  settled.  The  greatest  blessing  riches  can 
bestow  is  this,  to  be  independent  cf  other  people's  caprices, 
and  to  have  a  wide  circle  to  act  in.  Now,  Conrad,  go  to 
the  university,  learn  something  substantial ;  remember  the 
man  in  the  snow-white  wig  ;  beware  of  the  first  Utile  Iwle 
in  your  sleeve,  and  do  not  act  like  my  companion  Alfred. — 
He  at  last  enlisted  in  the  army,  and  was  shot  in  America." 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  Travelling  Journeyman. 

Conrad  went  to  Gottingen,  studied  law,  and  camerale.  He 
was  very  industrious,  without  depriving  himself  of  the  society 
of  his  fellow-students,  or  denying  himself  needful  enjoy- 
ments. But  he  was  saving,  for  he  had  a  great  project  in 
view.  He  contemplated  making  a  tour  through  Europe. 
Mr.  Marble  encouraged  him,  but  declared  that  he  w^ould 
not  aid  him  with  a  penny.  Nevertheless,  to  make  a  tour 
through  Europe,  cannot  be  done  without  money.  Conrad 
soon  resolved : — After  he  had  received  his  diploma  as 
Doctor  juris  utriusquc,  he  bound  himself  apprentice  to  a 
cabinet  maker,  and  learned  that  trade  :  his  skill  in  draw- 
ing, his  taste,  his  chemical  knowledge, — all  were  of  great 
advantage  to  him.     In  one  year  he  had  become  so  skilful  a 


MEND  THE   HOLE   IN   YOUR  SLEEVE. 


169 


mechanic,  that  he  competed  with  the  best  journeymen,  and 
even  with  his  master.  With  twenty  louis-d'ors  he  short- 
ened his  term  of  apprenticeship  ;  and  received  his  certifi- 
cate as  a  journeyman  cabinet-maker. 

One  evening  when  Mr.  Marble  had  returned  from  his 
usual  walk,  and  was  leaning  in  the  window,  a  travelling 
journeyman  came  with  his  knapsack  on  his  back,  saluted 
him,  held  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  spoke  not  a  word.  Mr. 
Marble  threw  him  a  piece  of  money.  The  mechanic 
thanked  him,  put  the  donation  in  his  pocket,  and  desired  to 
speak  with  Mr.  Marble  alone.    He  was  admitted. 

The  mechanic  brought  friendly  remembrances  from 
Conrad.  Mr.  Marble  appeared  as  glad  as  a  child.  For  nine 
months  he  had  not  heard  from  his  adopted  son,  who  was 
dearer  to  him  than  he  had  supposed.  .  But  while  Mr. 
Marble  was  looking  at  the  face  of  the  stranger,  he  suddenly 
took  a  few  steps  backward,  and  cried  with  astonishment, 
"  What !  is  it  thyself,  Conrad  ?  Art  thou  playing  a  joke 
with  me  ? — Is  that  the  appearance  of  a  Doctor  ?  " 

Conrad  smiled  and  said — "  The  Doctor  is  here  in  my 
knapsack;  when  travelling,  he  is  a  journeyman  cabinet 
maker.  With  his  trade  he  can  find  bread  everywhere, 
and  may  be  permitted  to  live  simply.  Here  is  my  doctor's 
diploma,  and  here  are  my  indentures  of  apprenticeship. 
Now  I  am  on  my  tour  through  foreign  countries.  I  have 
come  to  see  you,  my  dear  father,  once  more,  and  to  take 
your  blessing  with  me  on  my  journey. 

Mr.  Marble  was  greatly  affected,  and  his  eyes  moist- 
ened with  tears.  He  fell  on  Conrad's  neck,  pressed  him 
to  his  heart,  and  exclaimed — "  Yes,  thou  art  my  son, 
and  I  will  be  thy  father." 

Mr.  Marble  detained  him  for  four  weeks.  He  then  gave 
him  his  blessing,  and  permitted  him  to  go  on  his  journey. 
"Hast  thou  any  money  left  ? "  he  asked  him  at  his  departure. 


170 


MARBLE  AND  CONKAD  : 


Conrad  replied, — "  Twenty-five  dollars  is  all  I  have  been 
able  to  save." 

"  Money  enough  for  a  travelling  journeyman  !  " — said 
Marble,  with  a  smile.  Here  is  one  dollar  more  for  thy 
journey,  and  now  thou  hast  twenty-six  !  God  be  with  thee  ! 
Write  to  me  every  three  months,  how  thou  art  doing,  what 
thou  art  learning,  and  what  thou  seest.  Beware  of  a  hole 
in  thy  sleeve  !  and  thou  wilt  prosper." 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Tour  through  Europe. 

With  twenty-six  dollars,  Conrad  commenced  the  tour  of 
Europe  ;  first  through  Germany,  then  across  the  Alps, 
towards  Rome  and  Naples.  He  was  anxious  to  see  the 
crumbling  ruins  of  the  glorious  ancient  world.  Thence 
he  sailed  for  France.  He  took  employment  at  Lyons  and 
Paris,  to  perfect  himself  in  his  trade,  and  crossed  the  chan- 
nel to  London,  where  he  remained  nearly  a  year.  Then 
he  spent  some  time  in  several  of  the  principal  cities  in 
Holland,  whence  he  sailed  for  Denmark,  pursued  his  route 
by  way  of  Stockholm  to  Petersburgh,  and  thence  he  started 
again  for  his  home. 

When  he  arrived  in  a  city  where  something  memorable 
was  to  be  seen,  or  where  it  was  advantageous  to  remain,  if 
it  was  but  for  the  purpose  of  recruiting  his  purse  to  defray 
further  travelling  expenses,  he  engaged  as  a  cabinet- 
maker. A  few  classics  were  his  constant  travelling  com- 
panions. He  earned  some  money,  and  then  started  off 
again.  The  masters  would  often  have  been  very  willing 
to  keep  him  longer ;  for  a  more  skilful  journeyman  they 
could  not  easily  find  ;  and  at  his  literary  science  they  were 
perfectly  astonished.    Many  a  beautiful  master's  daughter 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE.  171 

would  joyfully  have  detained  the  wonderful  stranger,  and 
have  made  him  master !  For  Conrad  was  a  fine  youth ; 
his  black  eyes  were  full  of  spirit,  his  manners  were  like 
those  of  a  person  used  to  the  higher  walk  of  life  ;  he  held 
no  intercourse  with  common  people  ;  and  yet  to  persons  of 
his  station  he  was  affable,  prepossessing  and  modest. 
Every  body  loved  the  singular  man,  who  sewed  up  the  hole 
in  his  sleeve ! 

However,  once  in  Lyons,  and  once  in  London,  an 
agreeable  girl  made  his  heart  feel  heavy ;  but  he  tore 
himself  away,  and  never  suffered  his  inclinations  to  grow 
into  a  passion ;  for  that  he  would  always  call  a  new  hole 
in  the  sleeve  !  He  longed  for  his  home,  his  native  land, 
where  he  could  pass  his  life  near  his  second  father,  either 
as  a  cabinet-maker,  or  as  a  lawyer. 

After  having  wandered  about  for  several  years,  he  stood 
again  before  the  house  of  father  Marble.  For  three  years 
he  had  not  received  a  line  from  Mr.  Marble.  Nevertheless, 
he  had  written  to  his  benefactor  every  three  months.  The 
question  now  was,  whether  the  honest  man  was  still  alive  1 

Conrad  became  pale  as  death  when  he  was  saluted  by 
strangers,  who  informed  him  that  Mr.  Marble  had  sold  the 
house,  and  left  the  city  for  more  than  two  years.  He 
walked  dejectedly  from  one  street  to  the  other.  "  Might  not 
my  father  have  had  the  kindness  to  give  me  at  least  some 
intimation  about  this  change  ?  Now  he  is  gone,  and  I 
even  know  not  whither  !  " 

He  went  with  his  knapsack  on  his  back  to  a  house  of 
entertainment,  where  he  remained  during  the  night.  On 
the  next  day,  attired  in  his  best,  he  visited  the  banker 
Smith,  formerly  Mr.  Marble's  most  intimate  friend,  to  see 
if  he  could  there  gather  some  intelligence  with  regard  to 
his  benefactor. 

The  old  banker  recognised  him  immediately,  and  received 


172 


MABRLE   AND   CONRAD  : 


him  with  heartfelt  joy.  "  God  be  praised,  doctor,"  he 
exclaimed,  "  that  I  see  you  once  more  !  Our  old  friend  is, 
as  you  are  aware,  gone  to  the  East  Indies.  He  has  left 
with  me  two  hundred  louis-d'ors,  which  he  desired  me  to  give 
to  you,  whenever  you  felt  inclined  to  establish  yourself 
somewhere  in  your  vocation." 

"  Is  he  gone  to  the  East  Indies  ?  "  exclaimed  Conrad, 
and  the  tears  rolled  over  his  cheeks. 

"  Do  you  not  know  then  that  he  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
in  this  town  ?  The  sovereign  intended  to  knight  him  ;  but 
in  accordance  with  his  disposition,  he  sent  the  patent  of 
nobility  back  to  his  highness  ;  being  of  the  opinion  that 
every  man  had  an  inherent  nobility,  but  that  by  a  stranger 
hand  nobody  could  be  made  noble.  This  gave  the  first  rise 
to  misinterpretations  and  annoyance,  and  at  last  to  a  kind  of 
persecution.  They  called  the  good  Mr.  Marble  a  jacobin, 
and  suspected  him  of  carrying  on  a  correspondence  with 
rebels,  and  of  his  having  an  intention  to  form  a  party  among 
the  people.  One  thing  was  added  to  another,  until  they 
troubled  and  annoyed  the  good  old  man  beyond  endurance. 
Now  you  know  very  well  what  his  disposition  was,  alto- 
gether too  good  and  too  credulous  !  He  lost  considerable 
sums  of  money  ;  then  he  came  to  me  one  day  and  informed 
me  of  his  having  still  a  considerable  capital  in  the  East 
Indies,  which  he  would  draw  by  going  there  himself.  The 
objections  I  raised  were  of  no  avail.  He  sold  and  gave 
away  what  he  had  ;  gave  the  sum  he  left  for  you  to  my  care, 
and  took  his  departure.    It  is  nearly  three  years  since." 

Conrad  stood  as  if  benumbed.  Had  he  only  known 
where  in  the  East  Indies  to  find  him,  he  would  immediately 
have  followed  him  there. 

Mr.  Smith  would  not  listen  to  any  objections.  Conrad 
was  compelled  to  make  his  house  his  home,  until  he  had 
come  to  a  conclusion  as  to  what  course  in  life  he  would 


MEND  THE   HOLE   IN  YOUR  SLEEVE. 


173 


pursue.  Conrad  had  firmly  made  up  his  mind  to  establish 
himself  as  a  cabinet-maker.  Mr.  Smith  dissuaded  him 
from  that  purpose,  and  advised  him  to  open  a  law  office,  as 
then  he  could  be  of  greater  benefit  to  the  world. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Superintendent  Magistrate. 

A  few  weeks  afterwards,  Mr.  Smith  entered  Conrad's  room 
with  a  face  beaming  with  joy,  holding  in  his  hand  a  news- 
paper.— "  Friend  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  you  must  follow  me  to 
Lord  Wallenroth.  He  is  in  want  of  a  manager  on  his 
estates.  He  is  owner  of  a  whole  village.  He  needs  a 
man  like  yourself.  He  is  my  especial  friend.  Here  is 
his  advertisement  in  the  journal.  Seven  hundred  dollars 
salary,  free  board,  light,  fuel,  and  most  probably  many  rich 
perquisites  besides.  What  more  do  you  want  1  Does  it 
meet  with  your  approbation  1  " 

Conrad  shrugged  his  shoulders. — "No  objection." 

"  Follow  me  then,  doctor  !  "  continued  Mr.  Smith. — 
"  Allow  me  to  become  the  representative  of  father  Marble. 
There  is  a  situation  for  you  !  " 

Conrad  and  Mr.  Smith  departed  in  a  carriage  to  pay 
Lord  Wallenroth  the  visit.  * 

Lord  Wallenroth,  an  elderly  man,  very  courteous  and 
good  natured,  said  to  Conrad — "  Although  I  have  not  the 
honour  of  your  acquaintance,  it  is  sufficient  that  my  friend, 
Mr.  Smith,  has  recommended  you  to  me.  You  and  none 
other  shall  have  the  situation.  But  I  must  yet  acquaint  you 
with  various  little  matters.  I  must  go  to  Paris  on  business 
of  the  court,  and  shall  probably  be  absent  for  several  years. 
Into  your  hands  I  place  my  estates,  the  superintendency  of 
Alteck.    You  are  not  only  to  perform  the  duties  of  the 


174 


MARBLE  AND  CONRAD  ; 


magistrate,  but  you  are  also  to  represent  my  own  person* 
My  steward  is  subject  to  your  commands.  I  wish  you  to 
bring  my  neglected  estates  into  some  kind  of  order  again ; 
and  what  I  have  most  at  heart,  to  humanize  the  peasantry, 
for  they  are  wretched  beings,  rude,  poor  and  ignorant. 
The  manor  has  only  a  year  since  come  into  my  posses- 
sion ;  and  as  yet  I  have  not  been  able  to  pay  much  atten- 
tion to  it.  Everything  is  in  decay.  I  leave  it  to  yourself 
to  employ  and  send  away  whom  you  please.  You  must 
exercise  all  my  rights.  The  revenues  and  accounts  you 
will  send  every  year  to  my  friend,  Mr.  Smith,  by  him  to  be 
forwarded  to  me." 

Conrad  made  excuses,  by  saying  he  was  too  little 
acquainted  with  agricultural  economy ;  but  his  modesty 
availed  him  nothing.  Both  the  old  gentlemen  importuned 
him  with  kindness.  Lord  Wallenroth  thinking  Conrad 
considered  the  amount  offered  for  conducting  so  extensive 
a  business  too  small,  offered  to  raise  the  salary,  and  at  last 
nearly  doubled  the  sum  of  seven  hundred  dollars,  first 
mentioned.  Conrad  was  amazed  and  glad  at  the  same 
time. — "  But,"  he  said,  "  how  have  I  deserved  this  unac- 
countable confidence  ? "  Lord  Wallenroth  pointed  towards 
Mr.  Smith,  and  said — "  The  heart  of  this  gentleman  and 
mine  are  one." 

The  Contract  was  properly  made  out  in  writing.  After- 
wards Lord  Wallenroth  put  in  a  clause,  to  which  he  seemed 
to  attach  great  weight. — "  All,  he  said,  are  subjected  to 
your  commands,  with  the  exception  of  one  person  whom  I 
greatly  esteem,  and  to  whose  deceased  husband  I  was 
bound  by  many  obligations,  although  she  scarcely  knows 
me.  She  is  the  widow  of  a  preacher  by  the  name  of 
Walter.  She  has  her  rooms,  board  and  servants,  in  my 
own  house  for  life.  You  will  therefore  live  with  her  under 
the  same  roof.    She  is  a  most  excellent  woman.    I  hope 


MEND  THE   HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE. 


175 


and  wish  that  you  may  keep  in  good  harmony  with 
her." 

Conrad  could  not  make  any  objections  at  all  against  that 
clause,  and  was  only  happy  to  find  immediately  a  woman 
who  would  take  the  little  cares  of  housekeeping  off  his 
hands. 

In  the  same  week,  Lord  Wallenroth  set  out  with  Conrad 
for  Alteck,  installed  him  with  all  proper  form  in  his  office, 
and  left  him  with  Mrs.  Walter. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
Company. 

The  manor-house,  as  it  was  called,  was  very  pleasantly 
situated,  in  the  midst  of  gardens,  upon  a  hill  above  the  vil- 
lage, and  was  supplied  with  stables,  barns,  and  a  large 
square  courtyard.  Order  reigned  every  where,  and  much 
cleanliness  in  the  manor-house.  Everything  bore  an  in- 
viting aspect.  The  best  rooms  had  been  fitted  up  in  a  sim- 
ple yet  tasteful  manner  for  the  Bailiff-justice.  Nothing 
was  wanting.  Even  a  small  library  and  a  piano  were 
there.  Mrs.  Walter  had  put  the  house,  garden,  and  cellar 
in  the  most  beautiful  and  the  best  order. 

Mrs.  Walter,  a  lively  and  yet  sombre  woman  of  about 
forty-five,  displayed  much  cultivation  of  mind  and  good  man- 
ners. The  paleness  of  her  face,  the  silent,  dignified  ex- 
pression of  her  eye,  which  only  became  serene  when  she 
was  engaged  in  conversation,  bespoke  her  having  experi- 
enced many  hours  of  sadness.  No  one  felt  himself  a  stran- 
ger in  her  presence.  On  the  first  day  of  their  acquaint- 
ance, Conrad  felt  as  though  he  had  known  her  for  years — 
for  she  showed  him  the  surrounding  country,  made  him  ac- 


176 


MARBLE   AND  CONRAD  : 


quaintcd  with  the  domesticsj  and  initiated  him  in  every- 
thing within  her  management. 

"  With  that  woman  a  person  can  live  !  "  thought  Conrad, 
after  the  lapse  of  a  few  days  ;  for  he  had  been  timid  when 
Lord  Wallenroth  spoke  in  so  serious  a  manner  respecting 
Mrs.  Walter. 

"  A  person  can  live  with  that  woman  " — he  thought,  after 
the  lapse  of  a  few  weeks,  when  he  had  begun  to  feel  at 
home  in  Alteck ;  for  he  revered  Mrs.  Walter,  and  she  had 
become  necessary  to  him.  He  was  happy,  when  in  the 
morning  and  evening  the  meals  called  him  from  his  busi- 
ness, for  except  at  those  times,  they  saw  each  other  but 
seldom.  Then  she  and  the  steward,  a  good-tempered,  but 
ceremonious  man,  were  his  company. 

Conrad  was  so  satisfied  with  his  condition,  that  he  wrote 
a  letter  to  the  banker,  expressing  his  heartfelt  gratitude. 
"Never  while  I  live,"  he  wrote,  "do  I  desire  a  more 
agreeable  lot.  I  am  happy  to  be  placed  in  a  situation 
where  I  can  do  much  good ;  and  it  shall  be  done,  as  soon 
as  I  am  better  acquainted  with  my  sphere  of  action.  Here 
the  people  have  become  as  wild  as  the  land,  a  great  part 
of  which  must  be  cleared  and  cultivated !  I  hope  to  be 
able  to  win  Lord  Wallenroth's  entire  satisfaction." 

Matters,  however,  were  destined  soon  to  undergo  a 
change,  and  peace  was  not  permitted  to  dwell  long  in  Con- 
rad's breast.  Mrs.  Walter  had  informed  him  of  her  having 
a  daughter,  whose  return  home  from  a  visit  to  a  neighbour- 
ing town,  she  expected  daily :  and  Conrad  thought  "  if  the 
daughter  is  like  the  mother,  she  will  not  mar  my  comfort 
at  Alteck." 

He  wTas  returning  one  evening  from  the  forest,  where 
some  surveyors  had  been  employed  by  him.  He  met  a 
carriage  on  the  way  that  was  occupied  by  two  ladies.  They 
seemed  to  have  come  from  the  manor,  and  were  apparent- 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE. 


177 


iy  returning  to  town.  When  he  entered  the  dining-room, 
he  saw  a  young  lady  of  about  seventeen,  of  a  fine  physi- 
ognomy. Conrad  bowed  very  respectfully.  The  stranger 
blushed  slightly,  and  returned  the  salutation.  Mrs.  Walter 
introduced  him  to  her  daughter  Josephine. 

Conrad  forgot  surveyors  and  forests,  although  he  had  to 
give  the  steward  many  directions  regarding  them  ;  he  even 
forgot  to  say  something  agreeable  to  the  new  inmate,  while 
she  addressed  him  with  all  female  tact  and  sweetness.  At 
table,  where  he  formerly  had  been  so  talkative  and  open, 
he  was  reserved,  and  only  spoke  in  monosyllables. 

When  Conrad  was  alone,  the  form  of  the  new  inmate  ap- 
peared to  him  in  every  corner  of  the  room.  He  shook  his 
head,  and  thought — With  that  girl  a  person  cannot  live  ! 
Why  was  the  clause  silent  about  her  ? "  And  when  he  had 
thrown  himself  into  his  bed,  and  closed  his  eyes,  the  vision 
would  float  before  his  imagination,  a  still  lighter  and  still 
more  beautiful  being. 

Next  morning,  his  first  thought  was  of  Josephine,  hot  of 
the  surveyors.  But  how  could  it  be  otherwise,  for  he 
heard  Josephine's  voice  accompanying  the  harp  ?  He  shook 
his  head,  and  thought — "A  person  cannot  live  with  that 
girl !  "  He  walked  into  the  field  without  tAing  his  break- 
fast. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Preacher  and  his  Congregation. 

We  become  at  last  familiar  with  the  most  disgusting  objects, 
why  should  we  not  also  get  used  to  those  which  are  beau- 
tiful ?  Conrad,  however,  could  not  be  at  ease  with  Jose- 
phine, even  after  they  had  lived  in  the  same  house  for 
weeks.  It  was  very  singular  that  on  no  day  did  she  ap- 
9 


178 


MARBLE  AND  CONRAD  : 


pear  as  she  had  done  on  the  preceding  one  ;  but  seemed 
every  day  a  different  being.  He  was  friendly  and  intimate 
with  all  in  the  house,  and  each  person  was  so  with  him. 
But  with  Josephine,  he  could  not  be  so.  Notwithstanding  her 
vivacity — and  she  was  seldom  sedate — she  was  always  as 
great  a  stranger  to  him  as  she  had  been  on  the  evening 
when  he  first  saw  her.  He  loved  to  converse  with  her ; 
she  was  intelligent  and  easy  in  her  manner,  without  being 
pedantic  or  affected.  But  when  he  spoke  with  her,  it  seem- 
ed as  if  an  impenetrable  gulf  was  fixed  between  them.  She 
was  familiar  with  every  one,  whom  she  treated  in  the  same 
friendly  manner,  and  all  loved  her  ;  but  to  him  she  paid  no 
more  attention  than  common  courtesy  required. 

"  I  shall  have  a  tedious  time  of  it  here,"  thought  Con- 
rad :  "  I  wish  Alteck  was  .behind  Kamschatka,  and  I  had 
never  come  into  it."  But  that  Josephine  might  not  have 
come  to  Alteck,  he  did  not  wish ;  and  he  would  not  have 
taken  any  gift  as  a  compensation  for  her  going  away  again. 

Much  as  he  feared  ennui,  he  never  experienced  it.  The 
manor,  with  all  the  estates,  was  surveyed  ;  the  agricultural 
economy,  with  all  its  defects,  was  taken  into  consideration ;  a 
new  school-house  was  erected,  and  a  new  teacher  appoint- 
ed. Willingly^vould  Conrad  also  have  changed  the  min- 
ister, but  that  he  could  not  do  ;  and  yet  he  had  at  first  count- 
ed greatly  upon  his  exertions  to  improve  the  moral  condi- 
tion of  the  peasants.  When  the  superintendent  spoke  to 
him  about  improving  the  school  system,  or  about  the  bru- 
tality and  ignorance  of  the  people,  he  assented  with  a  smile, 
and  supported  Conrad's  opinion  with  many  examples  from 
experience.  But  on  the  following  Sunday  he  would  thun- 
der against  sectarians,  who  would  destroy  religion  with 
worldly  improvements.  He  hated  their  blasphemous  im- 
provements of  the  mind,  improvements  which  threatened  in 
the  end  to  rob  the  pope  himself  of  his  triple  crown,  and  his 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE. 


179 


smokehouse  of  all  the  sidelings  ;  he  would  be  harmless  as 
the  dove,  but  yet  he  was  wise,  like  the  serpent. 

The  peasants  of  Alteck  bore  a  great  similarity  to  their 
minister.  Their  religion  consisted  more  in  fear  of  the  devil 
than  in  love  to  God ;  for  they  had  from  time  immemorial 
been  used  to  severe  task-masters,  and  when  one  showed 
them  too  much  leniency  and  kindness,  they  laughed  at  him. 
In  their  household  and  agricultural  affairs  they  acted  like 
their  forefathers,  who,  as  they  said,  had  been  no  block- 
heads. Poverty  reigned  everywhere.  Their  houses  were 
full  of  filth,  and  they  lived  with  their  lean  cows  and  ragged 
children,  on  potatoes  and  water.  Towards  strangers  they 
were  uncouth  and  deceitful — towards  their  "parson"  they 
were  hypocritical — towards  the  inhabitants  of  the  manor- 
house  they  were  as  if  crawling  in  the  dust,  and  towards 
each  other  they  were  hateful,  envious,  backbiting,  proud, 
and  rude — such  was  their  manner  of  life  ! 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  Hole  in  the  Sleeve. 

Conrad  soon  knew  how  to  strike  the  proper  string  of 
those  people.  After  having  imprisoned  about  a  dozen  of 
them  on  account  of  some  offence,  and  after  having  had 
another  dozen  of  them  whipped,  they  considered  him  an 
extremely  sensible  man. 

When  at  last  they  began  to  confide  in  his  sense,  it  be- 
came an  easy  matter  for  him  to  work  much  good.  He 
wished  to  establish  order  and  decency  among  the  people, 
for  most  of  them  walked  about  like  beggars,  with  their 
clothes  torn.  Then  he  remembered  how  he  had  been  ed- 
ucated by  his  venerable  father,  and  his  tale  about  the  man 
with  the  snow-white  wig  and  the  hole  in  the  sleeve  ! 


180 


MARBLE  AND  CONRA 


Except  one  sempstress,  no  woman  in  the  whole  village 
knew  how  to  handle  a  needle  skilfully.  What  the  mothers 
did  not  understand,  the  daughters  understood  yet  less.  If  a 
new  gown  had  the  first  hole  in  the  sleeve,  it  became,  with- 
out any  difficulty,  larger  and  larger,  until  at  last  it  was 
past  mending.  Thus  the  garment  became  old  before  its 
time.  The  unmended  hole  in  the  sleeve  was  the  cause  of 
much  uncleanliness  in  their  domestic  lives  ;  this  unclean- 
linees  was  followed  by  its  usual  consequences — sickness  in 
every  shape.  We  are  more  ready  to  excuse  in  ourselves, 
when  wearing  a  ragged  garment,  indecencies  of  every 
kind,  low  behaviour,  depraved  conduct.  The  hole  in  the 
sleeve  is  the  cause  of  a  thousand  effronteries,  of  a  thousand 
disgusting  words  and  actions,  and  leads  to  vices,  not  to  be 
banished  from  a  village  by  any  pulpit  oratory.  As  in  the 
higher  ranks  of  life  the  females  soften  the  rough  manners 
and  dispositions  of  the  men,  so  must  also  in  villages  the 
ennoblement  proceed  from  woman,  for  it  can  have  no  other 
source. 

Thus  thought  Conrad.  The  first  thing  he  did,  was  to 
establish  a  sewing  school  for  grown  girls.  But  envy  of 
trade  made  the  sempstress  refuse  to  instruct  others  in  her 
art.  The  minister's  wife  complained  of  want  of  time, 
which  prohibited  her  from  devoting  herself  to  the  instruc- 
tion of  the  daughters  in  the  village,  notwithstanding  the 
high  praises  the  parson  lavished  on  the  notion  of  the  su- 
perintendent. On  the  next  Sunday  the  peasants  heard 
again  a  most  edifying  sermon  against  sectarians,  and  peo- 
ple of  that  sort,  who  wish  to  introduce  sewing  schools. 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE. 


181 


CHAPTER  XI. 
The  School. 

While  conversing  at  table,  Conrad  introduced  the  object 
of  his  heart  to  his  familiar  companions.  Josephine  listen- 
ed, as  she  always  did  when  he  spoke,  most  attentively,  and 
gave  the  most  lively  approval.  She  asked  permission  to 
be  herself  the  instructress.  Mrs.  Walter  had  expected  as 
much. 

"Sewing  alone,  is  not  sufficient" — said  Mrs.  Walter. 
"  The  women  in  our  village  do  understand  neither  how  to 
plant  in  their  gardens,  nor  to  cook  in  their  kitchens.  Sup- 
pose we  dismiss  our  cooks  and  other  servants,  and  instead 
of  them  take  alternately  the  village  girls.  I  will  be  their 
instructress  in  the  kitchen  as  well  as  in  the  garden.  The 
art  is  simple,  and  soon  learned.  Small  rewards,  a  new 
bonnet,  will  incite  them  to  ambition  and  rivalry,  and  will 
be  productive  of  taste  in  dress,  and  of  a  little  emulation. 
Were  it  not  for  the  vanity  of  women,  men  would  sink  down 
to  the  level  of  brutes.  Love  for  the  beautiful  is  the  first 
germ  of  man's  greatness,  which  also  unfolds  itself  in  the 
savage,  and  makes  him  more  human.  To  be  economical 
is  good,  but  not  every  thing.  The  heart  must  be  consider- 
ed, and  the  heart  of  man  is  easiest  changed  by  the  beauty 
of  woman." 

Mrs.  Walter  spoke  on  various  subjects  with  her  usual 
vivacity.  Conrad  at  times  threw  a  timid  side-glance  to- 
wards Josephine.  Had  she  looked  at  him,  she  might  have 
read  in  his  countenance  how  true  her  mother  was  speak- 
ing. But  Josephine  was  too  flirting  to  pay  any  attention  to 
her  mother's  fine  discourse,  and  was  teasing  the  steward. 
She  never  would  tease  Conrad.    It  almost  seemed  as  if  she 


182 


MARBLE  AND  CONRAD  : 


liked  the  steward  best.  When  taking  a  walk,  she  would 
always  hang  to  his  arm.  It  generally  fell  to  Conrad's  lot 
to  accompany  the  mother. 

The  school  for  learning  to  sew,  and  the  business  of  gar- 
dening, forthwith  were  organized.  The  teachers  were  in- 
dustrious, and  when  the  village  girls  heard  of  red  ribbons, 
straw  hats,  and  new  aprons,  they  all  strove  to  become  pro- 
ficients in  the  art  of  housekeeping.  The  minister  vented 
his  spleen  against  the  heretics,  the  girls  sewed,  the  boys 
learned,  and  thus  every  thing  proceeded  in  regular  order. 

But  every  thing  was  not  seemly  with  Conrad.  While 
the  peasants  were  mending  the  holes  in  their  sleeves,  he 
himself  had  so  large  a  one,  that  he  could  not  mend  it  by 
any  means. 

He  was  aware  that  Josephine's  presence  caused  his  un- 
easiness. He  examined  himself,  and  endeavoured  to  find 
some  means  by  which  this  unpleasant  condition  might  be 
meliorated.  When  sometimes  he  was  in  a  cheerful  mood, 
and  felt  inclined  to  jest  with  her,  she  would  become  serious, 
and  look  at  him  with  surprise.  Was  he  serious,  she  could 
be  extravagantly  merry.  If  he  succeeded  in  making  her 
his  companion  when  walking,  she  spoke  in  monosyllables  ; 
but  with  all  others,  and  they  often  had  visitors  from  the 
neighbourhood,  whose  visits  they  frequently  returned,  she 
was  talkative. 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Clouds. 

Josephine's  aversion  was  thus  made  manifest  in  all  trifling 
and  important  matters.  Conrad's  love  increased,  and  with 
his  love,  his  struggle  against  a  hopeless  passion.  He  as- 
sumed the  greater  air  of  indifference  the  less  he  felt  it. 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE. 


183 


The  airs  we  assume,  he  thought,  become  second  nature. 
The  young  man  shunned  Josephine's  society  as  far  as  was 
in  his  power.  He  became  a  stranger  in  company.  Since 
books  had  more  attraction  for  him,  he  doubled  his  undertak- 
ings in  improving  the  estates,  conducted  a  few  law  suits 
in  behalf  of  Lord  Wallenroth,  which  kept  him  often  away 
from  Alteck,  and  did  everything  in  his  power  to  bring  him- 
self to  an  equilibrium,  but  he  was  only  half  successful. 

It  seemed  as  if  Josephine  scarcely  took  any  notice  of 
his  absence.  In  her  behaviour  there  was  no  difference. 
She  was,  as  she  had  been  before,  friendly  and  yet  estrang- 
ed. She  and  her  mother  contemplated,  when  spring  an- 
nounced itself,  to  take  a  journey  to  the  distant  capital. 
Josephine  spoke  of  it  enthusiastically,  Conrad  approvingly. 
Mrs.  Walter  received  a  letter.  They  prepared  for  the 
journey  on  the  same  night,  and  took  leave  of  Alteck  on  the 
next  morning. 

"  And  is  it  so  easy  for  you,  dear  Josephine,  to  leave  our 
silent  Alteck  ?  " — asked  Conrad. 

"I  can  find  an  Alteck  everywhere," — she  answered 
with  a  smile. 

"I  believe  you.  You  will  scarcely  consider  it  worth 
your  while  to  think  of  those  you  leave  behind  " — replied 
Conrad. 

"  You  are  not  serious  when  you  say  so.  I  feel,  indeed, 
sorry  for  my  flowers  and  my  girls'-school — but  what  are 
four  weeks  ?  I  have  promised  to  bring  for  my  pupils — 
who,  meanwhile,  will  certainly  be  the  most  industrious  of 
all  the  others — some  beautiful  presents." 

"And  what  will  you  bring  for  me?" — asked  Conrad, 
taking  her  hand  in  his,  and  looking  into  her  eyes  with  a 
steady  gaze. 

She  smiled.  "  For  you  1  why,  Mr.  Eck,  if  you  take 
good  care  of  my  flowers,  I  will  bring  you  a  new  watering- 


184 


MARBLE  A>D  CONRAD  I 


pot!" — and  as  she  said  so,  she  skipped  merrily  away. 
Conrad  stood  annihilated. 

"  Now  she  has  acknowledged  that  she  loves  you  not." 
He  bade  farewell  to  Mrs.  Walter,  but  not  to  Josephine. 
He  walked  into  the  field,  and  did  not  even  see  them  de- 
part. 

All  the  fragrance  of  nature  and  the  beauty  of  spring 
were  brushed  away.  Every  object  laid  spiritless  and 
meaningless  before  him.  A  tree  was  a  flourishing  piece 
of  wood,  the  nightingale  a  singing  bird,  the  lake,  with  its 
surrounding  bushes  at  the  foot  of  the  western  hill,  a  great 
earthy  vase  full  of  water.  He  was  annoyed  with  a  world 
in  which  nothing  was  new,  nothing  fresh,  a  world  that 
looked  like  an  old  garment.  Even  the  poets  were  no  lon- 
ger able  to  lend  wings  to  his  imagination,  greatly  as  at 
times  he  desired  it — and  the  singers  of  nature  he  found 
somewhat  irksome,  and  the  singers  of  love  somewhat  fool- 
ish. 

"  Alas  !  thou  art  thyself  the  cause  of  all  this  trouble  !  " 
he  would  sometimes  exclaim — "  Conrad,  Conrad,  thou  hast 
an  enormous  hole  in  thy  sleeve  !  " 

Four  weeks  passed,  as  if  they  had  been  so  many  years. 
Josephine  and  her  mother  returned.  He  had  determined 
to  receive  them  with  coolness,  and  a  kind  of  tranquillity  had 
actually  again  returned  to  his  heart.  But  the  provoking 
girl ! — As  if  to  defy  him,  she  was  more  beautiful  than  ever. 
Her  joy  at  being  again  in  Alteck  was  evident.  She 
threw  a  glance  towards  Conrad,  out  of  which  her  soul 
laughed.  She  gave  him  hastily  her  hand,  then — at  that 
moment  the  old  steward  came  out  of  the  house,  and  walked 
towards  the  carriage — she  fell  with  out-stretched  arms 
around  the  neck  of  the  stiff  old  gentleman. 

Conrad  was  afraid  to  look  at  this.  Something  vexatious 
ran  over  his  heart.    She  loves  him  then  !  he  thought,  and 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE* 


185 


as  soon  as  it  was  compatible  with  decency,  he  walked  into 
the  field  and  whistled  away  his  thoughts. 

Peace  deserted  the  house.  The  harp  and  piano  became 
dumb.  Conrad  spoke  but  seldom  to  Josephine ;  and  his 
answers  to  her  were  more  in  monosyllables,  than  her* 
to  him.  When  he  came,  her  hilarity  vanished  ;  when  he 
walked  away,  she  looked  silently  and  timidly  after  him. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
News  of  Mr.  Marble. 

One  morning,  when  the  family  were  at  breakfast,  a  mes- 
senger, sent  expressly  by  the  banker  Smith,  entered  the 
room.  He  brought  letters.  Conrad  read  them  and  became 
pale  as  death.  The  others  kept  modestly  silent,  but  his 
change  of  colour  did  not  escape  their  observation.  He  gave 
his  directions  to  the  messenger,  went  to  his  room  and  lock- 
ed himself  up.  He  also  did  not  come  to  table  at  dinner 
time.  Mrs.  Walter  carried  him  his  dinner  to  his  room. 
She  was  about  leaving  him  without  allowing  herself  an  in- 
quisitive question ;  but  her  countenance  bespoke  that  she 
pitied  him. 

He  understood  that  language.  He  took  the  estimable 
woman  by  the  hand,  and  said — "To-morrow  at  break  of 
day  I  go  hence.  You  will  have  another  superintendent  in 
Alteck.  Accept  my  thanks  for  your  friendship.  To-night 
I  may  perhaps  tell  you  more." 

"  How  !  " — exclaimed  Mrs.  Walter,  with  amazement — 
"  You  leave  us  ?    But  surely  not  for  ever  ?  " 

"  Very  probably,"  replied  Conrad. 

She  said—"  Why  ?    Can  Lord  Wallenroth— " 

9* 


166  MARBLE  AND  CONRAD  : 

"  To-night  you  will  hear  more  " — answered  Conrad. 

Mrs.  Walter  left  him  silently  and  wept.  Conrad  con- 
tinued his  work — his  resolution  was  taken.  For  the  time, 
and  by  authority  of  Lord  Wallenroth,  he  had  appointed  for 
his  successor  a  young  talented  jurist,  from  the  neighbour- 
ing town,  with  whom  he  was  personally  acquainted.  He 
had  given  to  him,  and  likewise  to  the  steward,  written  in- 
structions relative  to  the  business  transactions  ;  and  then 
at  sunset  he  began  packing  his  most  necessary  articles  ; 
for  he  contemplated  nothing  less  than  making  a  tour  to  the 
East  Indies. 

Mr.  Smith  had  sent  him  a  letter  from  Mr.  Marble,  which 
that  gentleman  had  written  from  Calcutta  in  Bengal.  Mr. 
Marble  stated  in  this  letter,  that  he  had  been  cheated  out 
of  the  whole  of  his  property,  to  which  he  had  the  most  just 
claims,  and  that  he  was  living  in  a  most  wretched  condition, 
neither  having  the  means  of  feeing  a  lawyer,  to  conduct  his 
suit,  nor  having  sufficient  left  him  to  live  in  decency.  He 
should  like  to  return  to  Europe,  but  had  not  the  money  to 
defray  the  expenses  of  the  voyage ;  he  would  like  to  work, 
but  he  was  old  and  weak,  and  unacquainted  with  the  Eng- 
lish language.  He  therefore  requested  Mr.  Smith  to  make 
inquiries  about  the  young  Conrad  Eck,  whom  he  once  had 
educated  ;  to  inform  him  of  his  destitute  situation,  and  that 
all  his  hopes  rested  on  him.  Mr.  Smith  should  write  to 
him  and  ask  him  if  he  were  willing  to  undertake  the 
journey,  and  come  to  Mr.  Marble,  prosecute  the  suit,  and 
prolong  the  old  man's  days,  by  his  manual  or  intellectual 
labour.  Mr.  Marble  requested  Mr.  Smith,  that  if  Conrad 
could  make  up  his  mind  to  do  this,  he  should  have  the  kind- 
ness to  furnish  him  with  the  necessary  money  to  defray  the 
expenses  of  the  journey,  in  case  Conrad  should  have  used 
the  two  hundred  louis-d'ors,  which  had  been  settled  upon 
him  for  establishing  himself  in  business. 


MEND  THE  HOLD  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE. 


187 


"  If  Conrad  " — so  ended  the  letter — "  cannot  come  and 
assist  or  support  me,  or  should  you  not  be  able  to  find  out 
his  place  of  abode,  or  should  he  perhaps  be  dead,  I  request 
of  you,  my  friend,  to  pity  my  destitute  situation,  and  send  me 
some  money  for  old  acquaintance'  sake.  I  need  but  little 
for  the  few  years  that  are  granted  to  me  in  this  life." 

On  this  letter  Mr.  Smith  had  made  in  his  own  writing 
several  comments,  whose  import  was  nearly  this  : — 

"  You  need  not,  my  dear  Mr.  Eck,  trouble  yourself  about 
the  fate  of  the  good  Mr.  Marble  ;  for  I  shall  most  certainly, 
for  old  acquaintance'  sake,  render  him  some  assistance. 
Leave  Alteck,  and  run  to  the  East  Indies  in  order  to  prose- 
cute for  an  old  man — who  knows  whether  you  may  find 
him  still  alive  ? — a  prolonged  suit,  or  to  support  him,  should 
the  necessary  means  be  wanting,  by  establishing  yourself  as 
a  cabinet-maker,  of  course  is  impossible  for  you.  I  cannot 
comprehend  how  the  good  old  man  can  have  come  to  such 
an  idea  ?  True,  he  is  now  sixty-two,  and  the  annoy- 
ances about  miscarried  plans  may  have  made  him  older 
still.  Besides,  you  are  too  much  restrained  by  your  con- 
tract with  my  friend  Lord  Wallenroth.  He  is  at  present 
in  Regensburg,  where  he  remains  only  until  the  twenty- 
ninth  of  the  present  month,  then  he  will  most  probably  re- 
turn to  Paris.  You  must,  of  course,  settle  the  business  first 
with  him,  for  he  alone  has  the  right  to  free  you  from  your 
obligations.  No  gentleman  like  yourself  will  break  his 
word.  In  the  mean  time,  should  you  think  it  necessary  to 
let  Mr.  Marble  have  some  money,  I  am  prepared  to  remit 
it  to  him  by  secure  drafts.  In  that  case  I  would  request  of 
you  to  give  me  the  speediest  information  in  regard  to  the 
sum,  for  we  must  not  lose  time.  I  shall  at  the  same  time  tell 
Mr.  Marble  that  I  have  not  found  out  your  place  of  resi- 
dence, and  then  you  will  stand  sufficiently  excused  by  him." 

After  Conrad  had  read  the  letters,  he  exclaimed,  with  a 


138 


MARBLE  AND  CO XII AD  : 


quivering  lip,  and  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  "  Mr.  Smith,  you 
are  a  villain  of  bon  ion,  and  under  the  garb  of  a  gentleman, 
most  despicable,  as  such  virtuous  people  now-a-days  gen- 
erally are.  I  am  Marble's  son  and  principal  debtor,  for  he 
has  made  me  a  man.  Away,  Conrad  !  away  to  the  East 
Indies,  and  help  thy  father  ! " 

He  prepared  every  thing  for  his  departure. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Struggles. 

Conrad  instructed  the  steward  in  what  was  most  neces- 
sary, that  on  account  of  his  sudden  departure  nothing  might, 
be  neglected.  He  also  told  him  that  he  would  go  by  way 
of  Regcnsburg,  ask  Lord  Wallenroth  for  his  dismissal,  and 
persuade  him  to  sanction  the  proposed  new  Bailiff-justice. 

Mrs.  Walter  shed  a  flood  of  tears  ;  Josephine  sat  dumb 
and  dejected,  in  a  corner  of  the  dining-room,  when  Conrad 
entered. 

"  Are  you  then  serious  ?  " — asked  Mrs.  Walter. 

"  I  am  indeed  " — said  Conrad. — "  I  must  away ;  perhaps 
for  ever.    I  am  going  to  the  East  Indies." 

"  To  the  East  Indies  !  " — exclaimed  Mrs.  Walter,  and  in 
the  same  moment  Josephine  became  pale  as  death.  Her 
hands,  with  her  knitting  implements,  fell  lifeless  into  her 
lap. 

Conrad,  too  busily  engaged  with  picturing  to  himself  his 
father's  misfortunes  and  destitute  condition,  did  not  look  at 
Josephine.  He  did  not  see  how  she  lay  in  the  arm  chair, 
like  a  nipped  lily,  motionless,  speechless,  without  shedding 
a  tear,  and  her  half-closed  eye  directed  only  towards  him. 
He  spoke  of  his  situation  in  regard  to  Mr.  Marble,  of  his 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  VOUH  SLEEVE. 


189 


misfortune,  then  of  Mr.  Smith's  base  advice,  then  what  ho 
was  in  duty  bound  to  do. — "  I  should  be  a  villain  were  I  to 
remain  at  Alteck,  had  I  even  here  a  paradise,  and  should  I 
have  to  meet  death  on  the  sea  !  " 

"Ay,  ay," — said  the  steward — "  it  is  a  dangerous  enter- 
prise." 

"  No," — exclaimed  Mrs.  Walter,  and  sobbed  more  vehe- 
mently— "  your  principles  are  beautiful,  yet  perhaps  a  little 
too  hastily  acted  upon.  If  you  were  to  give  yourself  a  few 
days'  time  ; — better  counsel  often  comes  over  night.  Why, 
it  is  terrible  !  "  With  that  she  looked  at  her  almost  lifeless 
daughter. 

She  turned  with  a  face,  in  which  death  was  depicted, 
towards  her  mother,  and  said  in  a  loud  tone  of  voice,  as  if 
she  were  summoning  her  last  strength, — "  Mother,  dear 
mother,  make  not  his  heart  more  heavy  than  it  is  already. 
He  must  go,  he  must!  He  dare  not  stay."  Then  she 
sank  down  as  if  dead,  and  lost  breath  and  consciousness. 

Mrs.  Walter  gave  a  shriek.  Conrad  flew  to  the  apparent 
corpse,  the  steward  called  the  servants  for  assistance. 
Josephine  was  carried  to  her  own  room.  Fifteen  minutes 
elapsed  before  she  regained  her  recollection.  But  then  she 
opened  her  eyes,  and  said  softly — "  What  have  you  done  1 " 

Mrs.  Walter  had  sent  Conrad  out  of  the  room.  In 
ecstasy  to  know  her  Josephine  alive,  she  sought  him  again. 
He  stood  in  the  garden,  his  face  pale,  and  his  trembling 
arms  wound  round  a  tree,  for  his  knees  tottered  under  him. 
"  Come  " — she  called  out  to  him — "  she  has  recovered 
from  her  swoon,  and  has  asked  for  you." 

With  great  exertion  he  dragged  himself  to  Josephine's 
room.  She  sat  in  an  arm-chair.  He  took  a  seat  beside 
her,  said  not  a  word,  and  merely  observed  her  pale  counte- 
nance, to  which  a  soft  red  had  returned  on  his  entering  the 
room* 


190 


MARBLE  AND  CONRAD  i 


"  I  have  frightened  you  " — she  said,  and  smiled  at  him. 
"  I  am  sorry  for  it — I  could  not  help  it." 

"  And  now  ?  " — asked  Conrad,  trembling. 

"  I  only  wished  to  see  you,  as  long  as  yet  I  may.  Is  it 
not  so  ;  you  will  not  refuse  me  that?  " — replied  Josephine. 

Conrad  gazed  at  Josephine,  and  felt  as  if  in  a  dream. 
A  sympathy  so  tender  he  had  never  expected  to  see  in  that 
girl,  for  he  had  never  known  her  possessed  of  feelings  so 
deep. 

"  Can  you  then  feel  sorry  at  my  leaving  Alteck  ? " — he 
asked  at  last. 

"No  !  " — she  answered.- — "  It  is  well  done  in  you  to  go. 
You  dare  not,  you  cannot  do  otherwise.  God  will  be  with 
you.    You  cannot  fare  ill.    You  follow  a  holy  duty." 

"  But,  Josephine  !  " — rejoined  Conrad — "  I  go  with  a 
broken  heart.  I  leave  this  beautiful  place  very  reluctantly." 

"You  will  wean  yourself  from  it,  as  you  have  used  your- 
self to  it.  You  need  not  give  yourself  any  uneasiness  on 
that  account.  The  thought  of  your  unfortunate  father,  from 
this  time,  must  be  all  your  thought." 

"  Will  you  also  remember  me  in  my  absence  ?  " — said 
Conrad. 

"  Most  certainly,  and  with  everlasting  gratitude  " — re- 
plied Josephine. 

"  Gratitude,  Josephine  ?  " — exclaimed  Conrad. 

"  I  know  for  what  I  am  indebted  to  you,  but  spare  me 
the  confession  of  it.  No,  I  will  tell  you.  Through  your 
intercourse,  I  have  become  better  than  I  was.  Take  this 
confession  with  you  on  your  journey.  It  is  not  very  pro- 
bable .that  we  shall  meet  on  this  earth  again ;  and  so  the 
last  time  we  are  together,  we  may  at  least  be  candid  " — 
answered  Josephine. 

"  You  confound  me,  Josephine," — said  Conrad.  "  You 
have  never  spoken  to  me  so  kindly  before.    If  you  but 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE. 


191 


knew  how  dear  you  have  been  to  me  !  If  you  but  knew 
how  much  I  lose,  since  now  fate  calls  me  away  from  you  !  " 

She  turned  her  face  away  from  him,  when  he  said  this  ; 
but  in  the  same  moment  Josephine  became  again  serene. 
Then  again  she  turned  to  Conrad.  "  May  you  prosper  in 
your  journey,  my  dear  Mr.  Eck.  Good  night.  Write  to 
my  mother  when  you  are  far  distant,  before  you  leave 
Europe.  To-morrow,  after  you  are  departed,  I  shall  feel 
well  again.    May  you  be  happy  !  " 

She  gave  him  her  hand.  His  heart  was  as  if  broken. 
Mrs.  Walter  wept  aloud.  Josephine  drew  her  hand  quickly 
out  of  his,  hid  her  eyes,  and  exclaimed — "  I  conjure  you  to 
leave  me!" 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Conrad's  Departure. 

At  break  of  day  the  carriage  drove  up  to  the  door,  and  all 
the  inhabitants  of  the  village  assembled,  surrounded  the 
carriage  and  the  house,  to  have  one  more  look  at  their 
benefactor,  and  bless  him  ;  for  Conrad,  during  his  stay  at 
Alteck,  had  become  dear  to  every  family  in  the  village.  He 
had  been  a  domestic  friend  to  all,  and  to  every  one  in  a  dif- 
ferent way.  He  had  worked  more  good  in  silence  than  was 
believed.  Now  they  told  each  other  weeping  aloud,  how 
he  had  administered  medicine  to  the  sick,  had  clothed  the 
naked,  given  bread  to  the  hungry,0  and  security  for  the 
oppressed  debtor.  Every  father  believed  that  Conrad  had 
done  him  the  greatest  services  ;  and  that  he  had  loved  his 
family  more  than  all  the  others  in  'the  village.  He  had 
imposed  silence  upon  all,  but  the  general  sorrow  at  his 
departure  broke  the  promises  of  every  one. 


192 


3IARBLE   AND   CONRAD  : 


When  Conrad  entered  the  dining-room,  to  take  his  last 
breakfast,  he  found  the  steward  and  Josephine's  mother  in 
tears.  They  took  their  breakfast,  and  Conrad  endeavoured 
to  comfort  those  mourners.  After  every  thing  was  ready 
for  his  departure,  he  suddenly  left  his  seat,  begged  to  be 
remembered  by  them,  and  left  the  room.  He  had  not  had 
the  courage  to  ask  for  Josephine  ;  but  now,  when  he  bade 
farewell,  he  took  once  more  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Walter,  and 
said  with  a  voice  nearly  choked  with  pain, — "  Remember 
me  to  Josephine  :  tell  her  that  I  have  loved  her  beyond  all 
bounds ; — that  I  will  love  her  on  the  other  side  of  the 
ocean." 

When  he  left  the  house,  and  proceeded  towards  the  car- 
riage, the  steward  and  Josephine's  mother  were  hanging 
on  his  arms.  All  the  people  seemed  as  if  bent  down  by  a 
weight  of  sorrow  ;  and  all  wept,  sobbing  aloud.  Conrad, 
already  too  much  agitated,  wished  to  conquer  his  emotions, 
jump  into  the  carriage,  and  to  hasten  away  ;  but  at  that 
moment  he  heard  a  voice  behind  him,  which  riveted  him 
to  the  spot.  He  turned.  Josephine,  pale,  with  eyes  red 
from  weeping,  full  of  unspeakable  suffering,  stood  in  the 
door  of  the  house,  calling  his  name.  She  was  embarrassed 
for  a  moment,  when  she  saw  the  carriage  surrounded  by 
people,  who  were  weeping  and  kneeling  ;  but  in  the  next 
moment  she  walked  towards  Conrad.  "  Farewell !  " — she 
said,  in  a  feeble  tone  of  voice.—"  Forgive  me,  I  am  but 
mortal !  "  and  ran  back  into  the  house. 


MEND  THE   HOLE  IN    YOUK  SLEEVE.  193 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
Visit  to  Mr.  Smith. 

"  What  is  it  ]  " — thought  Conrad  ;  but  hours  elapsed 
before  he  became  capable  of  tranquil  reflection.  M  What 
is  it  ?  All  is  delusion !  Our  whole  life  is  a  delusion ! 
The  most  tender  and  deepest  feelings  of  my  existence  are 
crushed  before  me.  It  may  cost  me  my  life.  But  what 
more  is  it  ?  delusion  !  Josephine  loves  me  !  She  may 
fall  a  victim  to  this  sorrow,  and  so  may  I.  What  more 
is  it  1  We  understood  each  other  too  late,  but  had  it  been 
sooner,  it  would  still  have  been  too  soon.  Sink  into  thy 
grave,  Josephine  !  there  thou  wilt  be  at  rest.  Have  I 
not  to  pay  a,  holy  debt  to  a  father  ?  There  is  no  stay 
under  the  skies,  no  glory,  no  happiness  !  Here  the  high- 
est blessedness  and  the  deepest  despair  are  sisters.  But 
why  is  it  so  ?  God  is  incomprehensible.  My  dream  is 
not  yet  ended.  Wherefore  do  I  moralize.  I  do  my  duty. 
I  sacrifice  the  world,  friendship,  love,  Josephine,  myselfj 
to  the  duties  that  I  have  to  fulfil.  God  wills  it  so 
may  he  direct  me,  may  he  rule.    I  will  be  silent !  " 

Thus  soliloquized  Conrad.  But  he  manned  himself,  and 
looked  boldly  towards  his  fate.  "  Thou  art  thyself  the  cause 
of  these  sorrows  !  " — he  said  to  himself — "  for  thou  mightest 
now  go  laughing  to  the  East  Indies,  didst  thou  not  love 
Josephine.  And  that  thou  dost  love  her  so  much  is  self-in- 
dulgence. Thou  hast  a  hole  in  thy  sleeve,  would  Father 
Marble  say.    Ah,  did  but  Josephine  not  suffer  !" 

Towards  night  he  arrived  at  the  capital.  He  hastened 
immediately  to  the  banker  Smith.  This  gentleman  was 
astonished,  yet  glad  to  see  him.  "  I  bring  the  answer  to 
your  letter  myself." 

"  And  what  have  you  concluded  to  do  ? "  asked  the  banker. 


194 


>IARBL£   AND   CONEAD  I 


"To  go  to  the  East  Indies.  I  owe  my  father  too  much" 
— replied  Conrad.  •*  I  should  be  a  monster  were  I  to  leave 
him,  old  and  feeble  as  he  is,  to  his  misery.  I  should  be- 
come desperate  were  I  to  know  that  the  venerable,  virtu- 
ous old  man  held  out  his  hands  to  me  in  vain." 

u  All  this  is  very  excellent,  all  this  is  very  noble,  my  dear 
Eck" — said  Smith — "but  you  must  not  act  without  reflec- 
tion. A  journey  to  the  East  Indies  is  not  a  walk.  Who 
will  be  your  security  when  you  arrive  there  1  Can  you 
find  immediately  a  ship  ?  May  you  not  become  sick  on 
your  journey,  be  wrecked,  or  sink  i " 

"  Very  possibly.  But  then  I  shall  have  done  my  duty, 
and  Providence  will  guide  all  the  rest" — rejoined  Con- 
rad. 

"  Very  good.  But  how,  if  Mr.  Marble — for  he  is  old — 
should  have  died,  before  you  arrive  in  Calcutta  !  Of  what 
avail  would  then  be  this  journey  round  the  world  }  For 
what  purpose  would  then  your  present  course  of  life  be  in- 
terrupted, and  your  property  be  sacrificed  ?"  rejoined  the 
banker. 

u  My  course  of  life  will  never  be  interrupted.  The  course 
I  run  is  called  dirty.'  And  should  I  return  a  beggar,  very 
well !  I  know  how  to  support  myself.  I  am  young.  Let 
me  have  my  way.  I  only  beg  of  you  to  give  me  a  bill  of 
exchange  on  London  for  all  the  ready  money  I  have.  For 
that  purpose  I  have  called  on  you.  If  you  will  add  some, 
thing  more  tor  Mr.  Marble,  so  much  the  better.  I  will  be 
your  personal  debtor,  and  on  my  return  I  will  pay  you  back 
with  accumulated  interest,  even  should  I  have  to  work  for 
it  like  a  slave." 

u  Very  nobly  thought  in  you" — said  Smith — M  but  let  U3 
also  take  the  matter  deliberately  into  consideration.  Mr. 
Marble  cares  certainly  less  for  the  pleasure  of  your  company 
than  for  a  certain  sum  of  money  which  will  either  enable 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE.  ^195 

him  to  prosecute  his  suit,  or  to  return  to  Europe.  If  he  has 
money,  he  will  be  contented,  and  will  find  means  for  all  he 
needs  ;  and  then  you  are  perfectly  unnecessary  to  him. 
Well,  then,  tell  me  how  much  you  wish  to  settle  upon  him, 
and  how  much  of  my  own  I  shall  add  to  it.  We  will  remit 
it  to  him.  Drafts  can  be  sent  from  England  to  India  with 
greater  facility  than  people.  That  is  connected  with  pe- 
culiar difficulties.    Follow  my  advice." 

"  No,  Mr.  Smith,  I  cannot  do  it.  I  am  of  greater  ser- 
vice to  my  father  Marble  than  your  or  my  money  can  be. 
He  is  old  and  feeble  ;  he  needs  a  son  to  cherish  and  foster 
him,  to  assist  and  protect  him.  Ah  !  in  such  a  condition 
a  friend  is  worth  more  than  mountains  of  gold.  A  warm 
word  of  consolation  is  worth  more  than  all  the  service  well- 
paid  hirelings  can  render.  Let  us  pursue  this  talk  no  far- 
ther. To-morrow  I  go  from  here  to  Regensburg,  render 
an  account  of  my  transactions  to  Lord  Wallenroth,  give  him 
my  resignation  and  thanks.  He  is  an  honest  man,  and 
will  not  throw  any  impediments  in  my  way.  If  you  wish 
to  be  mine  and  Mr.  Marble's  friend,  I  would  beg  of  you  to 
give  me  a  letter  to  Lord  Wallenroth,  recommending  to  him 
my  purpose.  I  have  seen  how  much  your  word  avails  with 
him." 

Mr.  Smith  looked  at  Conrad  a  long  time  in  silence.  But 
he  stood  before  him  fixed  in  his  purpose,  and  what  he  said 
proceeded  from  the  utmost  recesses  of  his  heart.  Even 
Mr.  Smith  seemed  for  a  moment  to  be  moved  at  this  out- 
burst of  filial  love  and  gratitude,  yet  he  endeavoured  by  new 
arguments  to  dissuade  him  from  his  undertaking. 

"  It  is  in  vain  !  " — exclaimed  Conrad.  "  There  are,  per- 
haps, other  causes  that  might  have  induced  me  to  make  a 
base  choice.  I  loved  a  noble  girl — you  know  Josephine 
Walter — only  at  the  moment  of  my  departure  I  became 
aware  that  I  was  also  her  love.    And  yet — duty  before  hap- 


196 


MARBLE  AND  CONRAD  : 


piness.  Therefore,  Mr.  Smith,  I  pray  you  to  give  me  the 
drafts." 

Mr.  Smith's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  when  Conrad 
spoke  thus — "  Come  to  my  heart !  "  exclaimed  the  old  man, 
and  the  kissed  him.  "  You  are  certainly  a  most  excellent 
man.  I  envy  Mr.  Marble  for  having  such  a  son,  and  such  a 
friend.  How  few  fathers  are  as  fortunate  as  he  !  You  shall 
have  the  drafts  you  desire,  and  that  you  may  not  have  any 
difficulties  with  Lord  Wallenroth,  I  will  myself  accompany 
you  to  Regensburg." 

Conrad  was  at  this  sudden  emotion  of  Mr.  Smith  some- 
what astonished — "There  is  for  all" — he  thought  to  him- 
self— "  in  every  man,  even  should  he  in  his  every-day  life 
have  become  shrivelled  up  behind  his  counter  to  a  mum- 
my, and  should  he  have  become  a  stone,  there  is  always  a 
divine  spark  left,  which  is  never  totally  extinguished.  It 
requires  but  the  breath  to  blow  it  into  a  flame.  His  origi- 
nal nature  will  rise  again  with  victorious  grandeur,  how- 
ever deeply  it  may  lie  crushed  by  the  mercantile  4  Shall  and 
Have,''  or  be  sullied  by  the  dust  of  trade,  or  be  disfigured 
by  theological  or  pedagogical  systems,  or  be  strangled  by 
politics  and  military  science." 

Conrad  forgot  the  letter  of  the  banker,  forgot  his  sensible 
counsels  which  he  had  just  before  heard,  forgave  him  all 
his  cautions,  which  he  thought  are  subtle  high  treasons 
on  man,  but  which  are  very  current  in  this  every-day 
world,  and  rejoiced  that  the  nobler  spirit  was  stirring 
within  him.  This  is  called  romantic  in  common  life,  since 
that  greatness  of  soul,  which  we  admire  in  men  of  an  anteri- 
or world,  has  now  deserted  actual  life  altogether,  and  taken 
refuge  in  poetry. 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE. 


197 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Visit  to  Regensburg. 

Impatiently  as  Conrad  pressed  for  the  journey  to  Lord 
Wallenroth,  Mr.  Smith  nevertheless  delayed  it  nearly  a 
week — "  For,"  he  said,  "  I  had  never  counted  on  accom- 
panying you,  and  yet  I  must  do  it  now.  My  business  tran- 
sactions are  extensive,  and  I  cannot  leave  them  so  sudden- 
ly, and  intrust  them  for  weeks  into  the  hands  of  a  stranger. 
You  also  will  not  lose  by  it.  Lord  Wallenroth  has  a  letter 
from  me.  He  knows  of  our  coming,  and  as  he  is  expect- 
ing us,  he  will  not  leave  Regensburg." 

"But  every  day,  every  hour  we  let  pass" — exclaimed 
Conrad — "  increases  on  the  other  side  of  the  ocean  the 
distress  and  the  longing  of  the  venerable,  deserted  old  man." 

At  length  the  day  of  departure  arrived.  Mr.  Smith,  how- 
ever, who  needed  his  comforts,  would  not  travel  during  the 
night,  but  took  his  usual  rest.  Conrad  lost  both  his  sleep 
and  patience.  While  Mr.  Smith  was  asleep,  he  alleviated 
his  sorrow  by  writing  his  journal,  rather  for  Josephine 
than  for  himself,  and  he  recorded  his  lone  communings 
with  her,  which  he  wished  to  send  to  her  before  leaving 
the  shores  of  Europe. 

They  arrived  at  Regensburg.  On  the  first  day,  Lord 
Wallenroth  could  not  be  seen.  Conrad  drew  unfavourable 
conjectures  from  this,  for  he  doubted  not  in  the  least,  that 
the  Lord  of  Alteck  was  at  home  to  the  banker,  Smith. 
He  thought  there  must  be  some  plot ;  although  Mr.  Smith 
wore  a  serene  countenance  when  he  returned  at  night ;  but 
even  that  serenity  was  somewhat  suspicious. 

On  the  following  day,  Lord  Wallenroth  sent  a  messen- 
ger to  the  strangers,  informing  them  that  he  expected  them 


198 


MARBLE  AND  CONRAD  : 


to  dinner.  Conrad  urged  to  go  earlier.  He  had  firmly  re- 
solved, that  should  the  proprietor  of  Alteck  raise  any  diffi- 
culties about  dismissing  him  from  his  service,  he  would  de- 
part the  same  night,  without  being  dismissed. 

Lord  Wallenroth  received  them  very  kindly.  After 
the  first  compliments  passed,  Conrad  explained  with  fe- 
verish eagerness,  the  cause  of  his  arrival,  and  the  neces- 
sity of  his  being  dismissed.  He  placed  before  him  his  ac- 
counts, and  gave  a  general  description  of  what  he  had  done 
for  Alteck. 

"In  all  you  pledged  yourself  to  do,  you  have  given  en- 
tire satisfaction,  except  in  that  one  clause  respecting  Mrs. 
Walter.  The  good  woman  has  been  made  unfortunate 
through  you." 

Conrad  became  red  as  vermilion.  "  Through  me  ?  " — 
he  exclaimed. 

"  The  day  before  yesterday  " — rejoined  Wallenroth — 
"  I  received  a  letter  from  her,  and  in  it  she  informs  me 
how  dear  you  had  become  to  the  whole  village,  and  how 
every  one  deplores  your  loss.  There  is  also  Josephine, 
the  daughter  of  Mrs.  Walter,  who,  since  the  day  of  your 
departure,  is  wasting  away  like  a  waning  taper." 

"Does  she  write  that?  " — asked  Conrad. 

"  Most  assuredly  " — was  the  answer. — "  The  thoughts 
of  both  mother  and  daughter  are  noble  enough  to  honour 
your  resolution  to  go  to  the  East  Indies  ;  but  the  mother  is 
grieving  for  the  life  of  her  daughter,  since  that  is  now  in 
danger." 

Conrad  became  pale. 

Lord  Wallenroth  gave  him  the  letter.  Conrad  read  it, 
as  it  came  from  Mrs.  Walter.  In  it  she  informed  Lord 
Wallenroth  of  the  sudden  departure  of  the  superintendent, 
and  that  for  some  time  previous  she  had  observed  that  he 
had  made  a  great  impression  upon  the  heart  of  her  daughter 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE. 


199 


Josephine.  His  sudden  departure  had  entirely  changed 
Josephine's  disposition.  She  was  visibly  fading  away  ;  the 
physicians  advised  her  to  divert  herself  by  travelling,  but 
Josephine  would  not  depart  from  Alteck  ;  and  also  seemed 
too  weak  to  bear  the  fatigues  of  a  journey.  The  whole 
letter  breathed  the  affliction  of  a  disconsolate  mother. 

Conrad  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  covered  his  face  with 
his  handkerchief,  and  could  not  forbear  sobbing  aloud. 
Lord  Wallenroth  approached  him.  Conrad  aroused  himself. 

"  I  read  your  soul !  M — said  Lord  Wallenroth — "  and 
your  tears  justify  me  in  what  I  have  done.  I  know 
Josephine.  I  also  esteem  her  very  highly.  She  is  one  of 
the  loveliest  of  her  sex.  You  love  her?  " 

"  Certainly  I  do  !  "  exclaimed  Conrad. 

"  Then  compose  yourself,  " — replied  the  baron — "  I  had 
Josephine's  health,  and  the  peace  of  mind  of  her  excellent 
mother,  so  much  at  heart,  that  at  the  same  hour  in  which  I 
received  this  letter,  I  despatched  a  courier  with  a  letter  to 
Alteck,  informing  her  that  Mr.  Eck  would  not  go  to  the  East 
Indies  ;  that  circumstances  had  altered,  and  that  Mr.  Eck 
would  again  return  to  Alteck.  The  letter  is  undoubtedly 
now  in  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Walter,  and  so  will  prevent 
greater  harm.    Have  I  done  well  ?  " 

"  You  have  done  well !  " — said  Conrad. 

"  And  you  go  not  to#the  East  Indies  1  " — inquired  Wal- 
lenroth. 

11  You  have  done  well,  I  say,  and  it  is  done  well,  when  in 
this  life  we  have  dried  a  tear,  should  it  even  have  been  done 
under  the  veil  of  deception.  I  thank  you,  Lord  Wallenroth, 
replied  Conrad,  I  myself  will  write  from  here  to  Alteck, 
and  keep  the  hope  alive.  If  we  win  time,  we  gain  a 
great  deal.  Time  exercises  a  greater  might  over  man, 
than  the  power  of  his  principles.  Josephine  by  this  ex- 
cusable device  may  be  saved  ;  but  I  go  to  the  East  Indies. 


200 


MARBLE   AND  CONRAD  : 


"  How,  Mr.  Eck,  would  you  have  me  become  a  liar  ?  " 
asked  Wallenroth. 

Conrad  shrugged  his  shoulders. — "  Would  you  have 
me,  Lord  Wallenroth,  become  a  monster  towards  my  good 
father,  through  whom  I  am  what  I  am  ?  " 

«  No  !  " — exclaimed  Lord  Wallenroth  : — "  I  feel  the 
importance  of  your  choice  : — there  a  father,  and  a  bene- 
factor, who  has  indeed  the  claims  of  a  father  on  you, — 
and  here  a  loved  one." 

"  And  the  claims  of  the  father  are  older,  holier,  than 
those  of  the  loved  one," — retorted  Conrad. — "  She  would 
be  compelled  to  desist  loving  me,  were  I  capable  of  a 
base  action.    Josephine  would  be  bound  to  despise  me." 

"  Let  us  look  at  the  matter  from  another  point  of  view," 
— rejoined  Wallenroth. — "  You  would  hasten  to  the  relief 
of  an  old  man,  to  whom,  perhaps,  better  and  more  speedy 
assistance  might  be  rendered  with  a  sufficient  sum  of 
money ;  and  you  let  a  noble  girl,  overpowered  with  grief, 
perish — whom  all  the  gold  in  the  world  cannot  compensate 
for  the  loss  of  her  friend.  You  go  to  the  East  Indies  for 
the  purpose  of  making  more  serene  the  evening  of  an  aged 
man,  whose  life  perhaps  is  spared  only  for  a  few  months  ; 
and  on  that  account  you  let  a  young  life,  which  only  now 
is  beginning  to  bloom,  perish  with  all  its  hopes." 

"  I  act  from  this  principle," — sternly  replied  Conrad, — 
"  that  when  conscience  calls  us  to  the  right  and  to  duty,  we 
ought  not  to  regard  anything  termed  accident  or  advantage. 
The  life  of  my  father  and  the  life  of  Josephine  are  in  the 
power  of  Heaven,  but  the  righteous  deed  is  in  my  power. 
I  do  as  duty  commands  me,  and  over  the  rest  He  rules, 
who  knows  how  to  regulate  everything  for  the  best.  That 
is  not  my  business.  Am  I  sure  that  by  weakness — No,  it 
is  not  that ! — that  by  a  base  action  I  can  prolong  Jose- 
phine's existence  ?  " 


MEND  THE   HOLE   IN  YOUR  SLEEVE. 


201 


"  You  did  not  suffer  me  to  come  to  the  end,  Mr.  Eck," — 
replied  Lord  Wallenroth, — "  I  told  you  I  had  written  that 
circumstances  had  altered.  And  this  is  indeed  the  fact. 
I  could  lay  you  a  wager  that  you  will  not  go  to  tho 
East." 

"  How  ?  Is  Mr.  Marble  dead  already  ?  Or  do  you  wish 
to  make  me  believe  so?" — -exclaimed  Conrad,  terrified 
— Or  perhaps  you  have  certain  intelligence,  that  my 
father  is  already  on  his  return  to  Europe  ?  I  pray  you 
keep  me  no  longer  on  the  rack,  I  am  miserable." 

"  It  is  nothing  of  all  that," — replied  Lord  Wallenroth, 
with  a  smile, — "  But  you  will  be  astonished, — you  are  the 
proprietor  of  Alteck.  I  am  not.  I  was  only  so  for  a  short 
time.  I  bought  the  manor  for  Mr.  Marble,  who  destined 
it  for  you.  This,  however,  you  were  not  to  be  informed  of, 
till  after  you  had  been  a  year  home  from  your  travels. 
It  was  his  intention  to  probe  you  first :  and  did  you  prove 
yourself  such  as  Mr.  Marble  wished  you  to  be,  then  the 
manor  was  to  be  yours.  I  will  now  deliver  to  you  the 
deed  of  gift.  You  have  acted  in  Alteck  in  the  spirit  of 
your  benefactor.    The  manor  is  yours  by  right." 

Conrad  was  perplexed.  He  knew  not  what  to  say.  At 
last  he  exclaimed  with  a  trembling  voice,  and  his  eyes 
full  of  tears  lifted  towards  heaven, — "  Good  Marble,  thou 
hast  ever  thought  of  others,  but  never  of  thyself !  Now 
thou  art  no  longer  poor  !  If  this  is  true,  and  I  hope,  that 
at  this  serious  moment  you  are  not  jesting  with  me,  I 
offer  to  you  or  to  Mr.  Smith  immediately  an  advantageous 
contract.  The  manor  of  Alteck  brings  at  present  an  annual 
rent  of  seventy  thousand  dollars.  In  a  few  years  it  will  be 
worth  a  hundred  and  twenty  thousand.  I  will  mortgage  it 
to  you  for  thirty  or  forty  thousand.  Will  you  give  me  that 
amount  in  drafts  on  London  ? " 

"  Before  we  can  enter  upon  that  business" — said  Lord 
10 


202 


MARBLE  AND  CONRAD  : 


Wallenroth  with  visible  emotion. — "  it  is  necessary  that 
you  should  first  have  the  deed  of  gift  in  your  hands." 

As  soon  as  Lord  Wallenroth  returned  with  the  document 
in  his  hand,  Mr.  Smith  silently  pressed  Conrad's  hand,  and 
left  the  room.  Lord  Wallenroth  was  not  less  agitated. 
He  gave  the  parchment  to  Conrad,  and  hastily  followed 
Mr.  Smith  out  of  the  apartment. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
The  Document. 

Conrad  could  not  understand  the  behaviour  of  those  two 
old  gentlemen.  He  looked  for  some  time  after  them, — 
u  What  are  they  doing  ?  "  he  thought — "  They  seem  to  be 
moved  !  My  resolution  to  go  to  the  East  Indies  evidently 
meets  with  theip.  approbation,  why  do  they  resist  it  1 — 
What  have  they  to  win  or  lose,  either  by  my  going  or 
staying  ?  For  with  men  who  have  grown  rusty  in  a  worldly 
life,  it  depends  at  last  only  on  loss  or  gain,  on  shall  or 
have  J1 

He  sat  down  beside  the  window  and  opened  the  parch- 
ment. When  he  saw  Mr.  Marble's  name  beneath,  written 
by  his  own  hand,  he  kissed  the  place  upon  which  the  revered 
hand  once  had  rested.  Then  he  read. — It  was  indeed  an 
assignment  of  the  manor  to  Conrad  Eck,  whom  he  called 
his  dear  adopted  son,  with  all  its  rights  and  privileges. 
But  when  he  came  to  the  signature,  Conrad  was  alarmed. 
The  whole  document  seemed  to  be  false.  It  was  dated  in 
Regensburg  ;  and  the  date  was  only  two  days  old — but  Mr. 
Marble's  signature  was  so  perfectly  counterfeited  that  it  was 
difficult  to  decide  whether  or  not  he  had  written  it  himself. 

He  started  up  from  his  chair  to  look  after  the  gentlemen. 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE. 


203 


With  a  oyous  countenance,  Lord  Wallenroth  entered  the 
room. 

"  Was  not  I  right,  my  dear  Eck  ?  " — he  exclaimed  with 
eyes  beaming  with  joy. — "  Now  you  will  leave  the  East 
Indies  where  they  are." 

"  By  no  means," — exclaimed  Conrad — "  this  document 
is  false  !  " 

"  No  !  it  is  not,  it  is  true  and  authentic," — replied  Wal- 
lenroth— "  upon  my  honour  :  authentic  !  " 

"  But  the  date  is  only  two  days  old  !  " — retorted  Conrad. 
"  Exactly  " — said  the  Baron. 

"  Who  has  written  my  father's  signature  1 "  inquired 
Conrad. 

"  Who  else  than  he  himself] " — answered  Wallenroth. 
— "  You  certainly  ought  to  know  his  signature." 

"  That  is  the  very  reason,  because  I  do  know  it," — said 
Conrad.—"  When  did  he  write  this  ?  " 

"  Cannot  you  see  it  ?  cannot  you  read  it  ? — on  the  day 
before  yesterday," — added  Wallenroth. 

"  The  day  before  yesterday  1  " — exclaimed  Conrad. — 
"  You  drive  me  mad  with  your  jests.  How  is  this  ?  How 
can  he  write  1  Is  he  come  from  Calcutta  ?  Has  he  re- 
turned ?    Is  he  come  home  from  the  East  Indies  ?  " 

"  No,  Mr.  Eck." — calmly  replied  Wallenroth. 

"  Not  returned  ?  That  is  a  contradiction  !  " — exclaimed 
Conrad. 

11  No,  not  a  contradiction — no  !  he  never  went  to  the 
East  Indies  !  " — called  out  a  revered  voice  in  the  next 
room — and  the  next  moment  the  door  opened,  and  hand 
in  hand  with  Mr.  Smith,  old  Mr.  Marble  walked  into  the 
room.  He  held  out  his  arms  towards  Conrad  and  exclaimed 
— "  My  Son  !  " — and  embraced  the  young  man,  who  stood 
motionless,  like  a  statue, — and  did  not  seem  to  understand 
what  had  occurred  to  him. 


204 


MARBLE  AND  CONRAD  : 


"  No,  thou  dear  boy.  I  was  not  in  the  East  Indies. 
Come,  press  me  to  thy  brave  and  gallant  heart,  thou  art  the 
joy  of  my  life  !  Thou  art  just  what  thou  shouldest  be. 
May  God  in  heaven  bless  thee  !  " 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  Explanation. 

The  joy  of  old  Marble  was  not  less  than  the  ecstasy  of -the 
surprised  Conrad,  who  for  a  long  time  could  not  find  words 
to  give  vent  to  his  feelings.  They  had  to  tell  each  other 
so  much,  that  after  the  lapse  of  several  hours  Conrad  did 
not  understand  how  all  this  had  happened. 

"  Now  child,"  began  Father  Marble,  "  I  will  tell  thee 
everything  in  the  order  it  occurred.  Take  a  seat !  It  is 
true,  I  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  the  capital.  I  know 
not  how  it  entered  the  head  of  the  sovereign  to  hang  upon 
me  that  hair-bag  of  knighthood.  There  must  be  a  difference 
of  rank,  although  the  wool  distinguishes  the  sheep  from  the 
goat  better  than  the  name.  He  who  as  an  officer  of  state 
wishes  to  make  his  fortune,  so  called,  and  to  stand  near  the 
person  of  his  sovereign,  and  is  desirous  to  attain  a  greater 
sphere  of  action,  let  him  get  himself  knighted !  He  acts 
wisely.  It  is  a  good  and  profitable  inheritance  for  his 
children.  One  like  myself,  who  has  no  children,  no  in- 
fluence, who  wants  no  public  offices,  and  is  contented  with 
what  no  prince  can  give — a  pure  heart  that  wills  and  does 
as  much  good  as  it  can,  to  one  like  me,  that  parchment 
only  brings  real  trouble  and  disagreeable  circumstances. 
But  I  perhaps  took  that  trifling  matter  too  seriously.  How- 
ever, by  my  refusal  I  offended  the  prince,  or  perhaps  his 
lords.  They  began  to  annoy  me  by  many  little  acts.  I 
felt  vexed  at  them — therefore  I  left  the  capital.    It  was 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE.  205 

at  the  time  when  I  desired  thee  to  write  me  regularly, 
even  if  thou  shouldst  not  receive  any  answers  from  me — for 
correspondence  by  letter  was  troublesome  to  me — and  to 
direct  thy  communications  to  my  old  honest  friend,  Mr. 
Smith. 

"  I  removed  to  a  small  estate,  where  I  lived  happily  and 
in  retirement.  There  I  was  visited  by  God,  that  I  might 
not  think  heaven  was  on  this  earth,  and  I  became  sick  of  a 
bilious  fever.  I  then  was  urged  to  make  my  last  will  and 
testament,  as  I  might  possibly  die.  Those  people  were  in 
the  right,  for  whosoever  is  not  prepared  to  die  every  day, 
and  to  stand  before  his  Heavenly  Judge — oh  !  he  has  in- 
deed? a  great  hole  in  his  sleeve  !  Thou  understandest  me, 
Conrad. 

"  But  then,  poor  man  that  I  was,  I  had  no  children ; 
perhaps  some  distant  relatives  who  were  eagerly  looking 
for  my  death,  and  people  who  do  not  know  what  use  to 
make  of  their  money ;  that  is,  they  only  know  how  to 
count  interest,  save  their  money  for  themselves  alone,  and 
are  striving  to  render  themselves  conspicuous  before  the 
people,  keep  a  good  table,  and  call  it  foolish  when  we 
deny  to  ourselves  in  order  to  have  a  greater  abundance  for 
the  benefit  of  others  who  are  in  need ;  those  people  I 
thought  have  already  too  much.  True,  I  had  brought  up 
many  children,  or  had  them  reared  ;  but  whether  they 
were  what  they  ought  to  be,  I  did  not  know.  They  all 
had  holes  in  their  sleeves  !  I  made  a  short  business  of  it, 
and  settled  upon  every  one,  without  difference,  a  certain 
sum,  since  I  could  not  take  any  thing  with  me  ;  and  then 
became  well." 

"When  I  was.  sick  and  laid  on  my  bed,  waited  upon  only 
by  hirelings,  I  then  felt  for  the  first  time  deeply  the  want  of 
being  loved  for  my  own  self's  sake.  Then  I  often  thought 
of  you,  and  I  longed  for  your  return.    You  came.    But  I 


206 


MARBLE  AND  CONRAD  : 


would  prove  you,  and  find  out,  if  you  actually  were  a  man 
without  a  hole  in  your  sleeve  !  I  had  bought  the  manor  of 
Alteck,  a  worthless  estate.  There  I  thought  a  person  can 
give  a  specimen  whether  he  has  his  head  and  his  heart  in 
the  right  place.  My  friend  Lord  Wallenroth  was  kind 
enough  to  lend  his  name  for  the  purpose.  Mr.  Smith 
advertised  the  office  of  superintendent  in  the  public  journals, 
showed  you  the  paper,  brought  you  to  Lord  Wallenroth, 
and  all  the  rest  you  know.  I  never  would  make  my 
appearance,  for  I  earnestly  desired  to  become  well 
acquainted  with  your  true  character. 

Wallenroth  made  a  clause  in  behalf  of  a  poor  minister's 
widow,  with  whose  husband  I  had  been  well  acquainted. 
He  was  the  friend  of  my  youth.  The  lady  was  like  an  angel 
in  female  form.  Had  she  not  loved  my  friend  Walter,  I 
would  have  made  her  my  wife,  for  I  admired  the  girl  in 
secret ;  but  she  knew  nothing  of  it,  since  she  was  scarcely 
acquainted  with  me.  But  I  loved  Walter,  and  conquered 
my  passion,  which — I  will  not  deny  it — nearly  tore  an 
irreparable  hole  in  my  sleeve  !  Through  Lord  Wallenroth, 
I  received  from  time  to  time  tidings  about  the  woman  whom 
I  had  loved  ;  and  when  the  noble  Walter  left  her  without 
property,  I  had  the  widow  provided  for  through  him.  We 
brought  her  to  Alteck  ;  "  for  that  woman,"  I  said  to  Wallen- 
roth, "yet  is  an  earthly  angel." — "  If  she  is  an  angel,"  said 
he,  "  then  her  daughter  Josephine  is  certainly  a  seraph." 
Umph  !  I  thought ;  if  it  is  so,  and  Conrad  the  proper  man, 
nothing  will  be  wanting  there.  Mrs.  Walter  remained  with 
her  young  seraph  in  Alteck,  and  we  established  you  as  their 
companion. 

As  often  as  you  were  with  Mr.  Smith  in  the  capital  to  pay 
the  money  and  render  an  account  of  your  proceedings,  I 
travelled  incognito  through  Alteck.  My  heart  felt  delighted. 
You  began  with  a  great  hole  in  the  sleeve,  and  have  mended 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE.  207 

it  considerably  in  one  year.  Then  I  concluded  to  adopt 
thee  as  my  son,  and  to  transfer  to  thee  the  whole  of  my 
property ;  for  Conrad,  I  thought,  follows  in  my  footsteps. 
He  is  a  noble  boy  !  But  does  he  also  love  me,  like  a 
father  ?  That  was  yet  a  question  with  me,  and  alas  !  my 
dear  Conrad,  whether  it  be  a  hole  in  the  sleeve,  or  not,  to 
my  heart  it  was  the  most  important  one.  Then  we  played 
this  little  comedy,  in  which  your  heart  was  a  little  hard 
pinched.  You  have  made  me,  an  old  man,  happy,  and  led 
me  back  into  my  lost  Eden.  Now  our  comedy  is  ended,  I 
shall  go  to  Alteck  to  live  with  you  and  to  assist  you  a  little. 
In  Alteck  we  will  build  houses  of  "  peace  on  earth,"  and 
prepare  for  the  heaven  above  the  stars.  In  my  gray  hairs 
I  will  now  confess  to  Mrs.  Walter  my  unfaded  true  love, 
and  with  the  young  seraph  you  may  settle  your  own  affair. 

CHAPTER    X  X. 

The  Return  to  Alteck. 

What  joy,  gratitude  and  love  were  felt  by  Conrad,  can 
easily  be  imagined.  At  the  first  hour,  in  which  he  was 
unincumbered  and  alone  in  his  room,  he  fell  on  his  knees 
and  thanked  the  divine  and  benevolent  Ruler  of  the  universe. 
Then  with  a  heart  yet  deeply  agitated,  he  sat  down  to  his 
writing-desk.  He  wrote  to  Mrs.  Walter  the  history  of  his 
fortune,  and  to  Josephine  the  history  of  his  heart,  and  its 
desires. 

Mr.  Marble  had  yet  to  order  so  much  respecting  his 
affairs,  that  three  weeks  elapsed  before  they  could  think  of 
going  to  Alteck.  Mrs.  Walter,  in  answer  to  his  letter, 
stated,  that  Josephine  was  fully  restored  to  health,  and  in 
her  silent  transport  that  she  was  scarcely  like  an  earthly 
being. 


20$ 


MARBLE   AXD  COIVRAX*  ; 


Josephine,  however,  in  her  letters,  was  just  as  singular 
as  she  had  been  in  her  personal  intercourse.  "  No !  she 
wrote — I  love  you  not.  I  cannot  love  you.  I  also  assure 
you  that  such  a  feeling  for  you  has  never  entered  my  heart. 
I  love  my  excellent  mother  above  all  things.  I  love  the 
whole  world.  But  you — there  is  something  that  pushes  me 
away  from  you.  I  know  not  what  to  call  it,  how  to  describe 
it.  It  is  veneration,  devctedness.  You  are  right  to  love 
me,  more  I  do  not  deserve.  It  is  already  too  much  that 
you  give  a  thought  to  so  insignificant  a  creature  as  I  am  ; 
that  you  can  say,  without  me  the  world  were  nothing. 
But — for  me  to  love  you  ;  would  be  too  human.  I  fear  that 
by  this  common  word  I  should  profane  my  sensibilities. 
There  is  something  august  in  you,  which  by  being  near 
me,  you  have  imparted  to  me.  Every  thing  has  become 
different.  Nature  is  not  as  it  was  before.  Before  you 
came  to  Alteck,  I  looked  at  things  as  others  did ;  but  this 
is  no  longer  so.  A  different  spirit  is  diffused  over  all  things. 
I  should  never  have  had  the  courage  to  tell  you  this  by 
word  of  mouth,  but  being  far  away  from  you,  my  timidity 
has  lost  its  sway.  It  is  true,  without  you  I  should  not  like 
to  breathe  the  air  of  life  ;  but  I  cannot  comprehend  how  I 
can  live  near  you,  and  be  continually  at  your  side  ! " 

Marble,  to  whom  Conrad  always  showed  Josephine's 
letters — and  he  loved  to  read  them — smiled. — "  Conrad,'1 
he  said,  "  this  seraph  takes  you  for  a  cherub.  But  you 
children  of  elysium  will  soon  become  less  platonic.  Have 
only  a  little  patience  !  " 

Mr.  Marble  could  not  have  surprised  Conrad  more 
agreeably  in  Regensburg,  than  when  at  Lord  Wallenroth's 
house  he  was  met  on  entering  the  room  by  Mrs.  Walter 
and  Josephine,  who  as  yet  had  not  changed  their  travelling 
dress.  Conrad  with  joyful  emotion  embraced  the  mother, 
but  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  Josephine,  who  stood  motionless, 


MEND  THE  HOLE  IN  YOUR  SLEEVE. 


209 


blushing  deeply,  and  looking  at  the  floor.  The  ordinary 
shows  of  politeness  of  the  refined  world,  so  called,  other- 
wise a  plague  to  better  men,  are  nevertheless  oftentimes 
devices  of  inestimable  value.  By  means  of  those,  the 
lovers  found  the  way  to  each  other,  who  concealed  in  a 
general  and  polite  conversation,  the  loud  calling  of  their 
hearts.  They  learned  to  look  at  each  other  without  trem- 
bling, and  to  speak  together  without  being  confused.  Mr. 
Marble  declared  to  Mrs.  Walter  how  he  had  loved  her  in 
her  youth,  and  now,  an  old  man,  he  would  be  her  best  friend. 

"  But  those  two  people,  I  mean  your  daughter  and  my 
son,  have  not  told  each  other  what  they  have  to  say !  " 
whispered  Marble  to  his  friend,  Mrs.  Walter. — "  Suppose 
we  let  them  have  an  hour  of  conversation  in  the  garden?  " 

Between  flowers  and  bushes,  Josephine  and  Conrad 
were  purposely  deserted  by  all.  Meanwhile,  Marble  and 
Mrs.  Walter  determined  upon  the  future  lot  of  the  young 
people. 

One  hour  after  another  elapsed,  but  Josephine  and  Con- 
rad did  not  again  make  their  appearance.  Night  came  on, 
yet  they  did  not  return. 

"  This  matter  troubles  me  " — remarked  Mr.  Marble — 
"  they  may  be  bewildered  from  mere  ecstasy  !  "  Marble 
took  the  arm  of  Mrs.  Walter,  and  searched  for  the  missing 
couple.  No  sound  betrayed  them.  At  last  they  found  them 
between  thick  bushes.  There  they  stood,  like  two  statues, 
underneath  a  beech-tree,  so  engrossed  with  each  other, 
that  they  heard  not  the  footsteps  of  those  who  approached 
them. 

"  God  be  praised  that  you  yet  have  breath  " — exclaimed 
Marble — "but  I  do  not  like  this  hiding  of  cherubs  and 
seraphs  !  Away  with  you ;  to-morrow  I  will  drive  you 
out  of  this  garden.  You  have  at  last  discovered  that  you 
are  two  very  natural  human  beings.    You  both  have,  as  I 


210 


MARBLE  AND  CONRAD. 


perceive,  an  enormous  hole  in  your  sleeve,  which  matrimony 
alone  can  mend!  " 

Conrad  and  the  deeply-blushing  Josephine,  returned  with 
their  beloved  parents.  The  next  morning,  by  Marble's 
urgency,  the  youthful  lovers  were  married,  and  from  the 
nuptial  ceremony,  he  led  them  to  a  travelling  carriage. 
"  My  son  " — said  Marble — "  you  are  of  no  use  here.  The 
day  after  to-morrow  we  all  shall  leave  this  place  for  Alteck, 
and  then  make  arrangements  for  our  future  life.  Go  to 
Leipsic,  receive  the  amounts  for  me,  according  to  my  in- 
structions, and  return  in  a  fortnight  to  Alteck.  Josephine 
will  accompany  you  to  drive  away  dull  care  !  " 

On  the  twelfth  day,  Conrad  returned  with  his  bride  to 
Alteck,  where  Father  Marble,  and  Mrs.  Walter,  and  the 
whole  village,  met  them,  exulting  with  joy. 


OLIVIER  FLYELN: 


i 

A  FOOL  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Introductory* 

During  my  last  journey  in  the  north  of  my  native  land,  1 
did  not  repent  taking  a  little  circuitous  route,  once  more  to 
see  one  of  my  esteemed  friends  in  the  golden  age  of  my 
life.  In  the  following  narrative  I  have  altered  the  names 
both  of  the  persons  and  places  ;  but  the  history  is  not  less 
true,  improbable  as  in  some  respects  it  may  appear. 

My  friend  was  the  Baron  Olivier  Flyeln,  who  had  been 
my  fellow-student  at  the  University  of  Gottingen.  He  then 
was  a  young  man  of  most  excellent  character,  and  of  almost 
unmatched  intelligence.  Our  love  for  the  Greek  and 
Roman  classics  had  brought  us  together,  and  made  us 
friends.  I  called  him  my  Achilles,  and  he  denominated 
me  his  Patroclus.  But  he  might,  indeed,  have  served  for 
any  artist  as  the  subject  for  an  Achilles.  In  form  and  car- 
riage he  was  truly  dignified.  Energy  and  benevolence 
shone  in  the  dark  lustre  of  his  eye.  None  were  more  ac- 
tive and  dexterous  than  he  ;  for  he  was  the  boldest  swim- 
mer, the  fleetest  runner,  and  the  most  daring  horseman ; 
and  withal,  he  possessed  a  most  tender  and  faithful  heart. 
Through  his  generosity,  however,  he  became  entangled  in 
various  unpleasant  difficulties  ;  for  of  his  own  free-will,  he 
would  often  render  assistance  to  the  oppressed,  in  conse- 


212 


OLITIEK  FLYELN  : 


quence  of  which,  he  had  been  compelled  several  times  to 
defend  himself  against  rude  assaults. 

Since  our  separation  we  had  written  several  times  to 
each  other ;  but  when  the  waves  of  life  cast  us,  the  one 
here,  the  other  there,  we  are  apt  to  forget  in  the  end — not 
each  other — but  our  correspondence.  Finally,  I  knew 
nothing  more  of  him,  than  that  he  had  been  captain  of  a 
regiment  of  infantry.  At  that  period  he  was  about  thirty- 
five  years  of  age,  and  advanced  in  rank.  By  mere  acci- 
dent, I  learned,  on  my  journey,  where  his  regiment  was 
stationed,  which  induced  me  to  take  a  circuitous  route. 

The  postillion  drove  with  me  into  the  streets  of  a 
large,  rich  commercial  town,  and  stopped  before  the  most 
fashionable  hotel.  As  soon  as  the  waiter  had  shown  me 
to  my  room,  I  asked  if  there  were  not  with  the  regiment 
garrisoned  in  the  place,  a  Baron  Flyeln  ? 

"  Do  you  mean  the  major  ?  " — asked  the  waiter. 

"  Major  he  may  perhaps  be,"  I  said.  "  Are  his  lodg- 
ings far  from  here  ?  Is  he  to  be  found  at  this  time  ?  It  is 
already  late,  but  I  should  like  some  person  to  conduct  me 
to  his  house." 

"  Excuse  me,  sir  " — was  the  reply — M  but  it  is  long  since 
this  gentleman  has  been  in  the  regiment.  He  has  taken 
his  discharge,  or  rather,  was  compelled  to  take  it." 

"  Was  compelled  to  take  it?    Wherefore  ?  " — I  inquired. 

"  He  was  very  eccentric" — answered  the  waiter — "and 
acted  very  strangely.  I  know  not  myself  what  he  did. 
He  was  not  altogether  right  in  his  head ;  became  crack- 
brained  and  crazy.  It  is  said  he  lost  his  senses  by  too 
much  study." 

This  intelligence  terrified  me  so,  that  I  lost  presence  of 
mind,  and  the  question. 

"How?" — I  stammered  at  last,  to  ask  at  least  some- 
thing, and  to  gain  more  particular  information. 


A  FOOL   OF  THE   NINETEENTH   CENTURY.  213 

"  Excuse  me,  sir  " — said  the  obliging  waiter — "  what  I 
know,  I  have  merely  from  hearsay,  for  he  was  sent  away 
before  I  came  to  this  house.  But  many  things  are  as  yet 
related  of  him.  He  had  various  difficulties  with  the  offi- 
cers, addressed  every  one  with  thou,  even  the  general, 
every  one,  it  mattered  not  who  it  was.  After  having  in- 
herited a  very  considerable  amount  of  property  from  his 
uncle,  he  imagined  that  he  had  become  poor  as  a  beggar, 
that  he  could  not  pay  his  debts,  and  sold  every  article  which 
he  had  on  or  about  him.  It  is  also  said,  that  in  his  mad- 
ness he  uttered  the  most  blasphemous  language.  But  the 
drollest  part  of  the  joke  is  this — that  in  order  to  spite  his 
family,  he  married  a  dishonest  girl,  the  daughter  of  a 
sharper.  His  dress,  also,  is  said  to  have  become  finally 
very  nonsensical  and  clownish,  so  that  all  the  boys  in  the 
street  ran  after  him.  He  was  greatly  pitied  in  the  city, 
for  before  that  time  he  was  much  beloved,  as  he  must  have 
been  a  most  excellent  gentleman  ere  he  lost  his  wits." 

"  And  where  is  he  now  ?  " — I  asked. 

"  I  do  not  know.  He  has  left  the  town  " — said  the 
waiter.  "  Nothing  is  heard  or  seen  of  him.  His  family 
perhaps  have  placed  him  somewhere  for  the  purpose  of 
having  him  cured." 

More  information  the  waiter  could  not  give.  I  had  al- 
ready heard  too  much.  Agonized,  I  threw  myself  into  a 
chair.  I  pictured  to  myself  the  heroic  form  of  the  talented 
young  man,  of  whose  future  course  I  had  entertained  the 
most  flattering  expectations,  who,  on  account  of  his  rank, 
as  well  as  through  his  extensive  family  connexions,  might 
have  aspired  to  the  first  offices  in  the  army  or  state  ;  who, 
through  his  knowledge  and  rare  gifts  of  mind,  seemed  to 
have  been  destined  for  all  that  is  great,  and  who  then  was 
one  of  those  unfortunates,  at  the  sight  of  whom,  humanity 
shrinks  back  with  compassion.  ,  Oh,  that  the  angel  of  life 


214 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  I 


had  rather  taken  him  out  of  this  world,  than  let  him  stand 
here  a  deplorable  caricature,  and  a  sorrowful  spectacle  ! 

Glad  as  I  should  have  been  to  see  the  good  Olivier,  I 
felt  rejoiced  to  know  that  he  was  out  of  the  city.  Alas  ! 
he  would  no  longer  have  been  Olivier,  no  longer  my  glo- 
rious Achilles,  but  a  deplorable,  unrecognisable  Torso. 
I  had  no  desire  to  see  him,  could  I  even  have  found  him 
without  any  trouble  ;  for  had  I  been  compelled  to  change 
in  my  memory,  my  Achilles  of  Gottingen  with  the  form  of 
a  madman,  it  would  have  robbed  me  of  one  of  the  dearest 
and  most  agreeable  of  my  remembrances.  I  did  not  wish 
to  see  him  again,  for  the  same  reason  that  I  do  not  like  to 
look  upon  *any  of  my  friends  in  their  coffin,  as  I  am  desi- 
rous of  retaining  in  my  memory  the  form  they  bore  while 
living ;  or  as  I  avoid  visiting  rooms  which  formerly  I  occu- 
pied, and  now  are  inhabited  by  others,  and  are  furnished  in  a 
different  manner.  That  which  was,  and  that  which  is  noio, 
form  a  confusion  of  ideas  in  a  manner  most  intolerable  and 
painful  to  me. 

I  was  lost  in  various  contemplations  on  the  nature  of  hu- 
man life,  and  how  the  same  spirit  which  measures  the 
spaces  of  the  universe,  and  anticipates  what  is  most  sublime, 
by  a  pressure,  or  by  a  hurt  of  an  invisible  part  of  the  ner- 
vous system,  will  become  like  a  distressing  untuned  string- 
ed instrument,  an  incomprehensible  stranger  to  itself  and 
to  the  rest  of  the  world  ! 

I  found  the  supper-table  in  the  well-lighted  dining-room 
of  the  hotel  filled  with  guests.  It  happened  that  a  place 
near  to  several  officers  garrisoned  in  the  city  was  assigned 
to  me.  I  led  the  conversation,  as  soon  as  it  had  com- 
menced between  us,  to  my  friend  Olivier.  I  specified  mi- 
nutely as  many  individualities  as  I  recollected  of  him,  in 
order  to  avoid  every  change  of  persons  ;  for  it  might  have 
been  possible — and  I  believed  in  the  possibility — that  this 


A  FOOL  OF  TIIE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  215 

crazy  Baron  Flyeln  was  altogether  a  different  person  from 
my  friend  of  Gottingen.  But  all  I  said,  all  I  again  heard, 
confirmed  my  belief  that  there  was  no  mistake. 

"  It  is  a  great  pity  !  " — exclaimed  one  of  the  officers — 
"  every  body  liked  the  baron.  He  was  one  of  the  bravest 
and  most  daring  men  in  the  regiment.  He  proved  it  in  the 
last  campaign  in  France.  What  none  of  us  dared  to  attempt, 
he  would  do  playfully !  Everything  he  undertook,  was 
crowned  also  with  success.  Only  call  to  your  minds  the 
battery  of  Waterloo  !  We  had  lost  it.  The  general  tore 
his  hair.  Flyeln  exclaimed — '  We  must  have  it  again,  else 
all  is  lost !  '  We  had  attacked  it  three  times  without  suc- 
cess. Then  Flyeln  advanced  once  more  with  his  compa- 
ny, entered  into  a  conflict  with  a  whole  battalion  of  the 
guards,  cut  his  way  through  in  a  most  frightful  massacre, 
and  captured  the  battery  !  " 

"  But  he  lost  half  of  his  company  !  "—exclaimed  an  old 
captain  at  my  side.  "  I  was  an  eye  witness.  He,  as  usual, 
did  not  receive  a  scratch.  Enormous  luck  accompanied 
that  man.  The  most  common  soldier  cannot  even  now 
be  dissuaded  from  believing  that  the  baron  had  made  him- 
self cut,  thrust,  and  bullet  proof." 

I  listened  with  real  delight  to  the  praises  thus  bestowed 
on  Olivier.  I  again  recognised  him  by  all  the  virtues  as- 
cribed to  him.  His  benevolent  actions  were  particularly 
lauded.  He  had  founded  and  improved  a  school  for  the 
children  of  soldiers,  and  had  expended  much  money  on  it. 
He  had  silently  performed  a  great  deal  of  good  ;  had  al- 
ways led  a  simple,  sequestered  life  ;  had  never  given  him- 
self up  to  the  mischief  or  the  extravagances  to  which  youth, 
beauty,  fulness  of  strength,  and  riches  so  easily  entice  men. 
The  officers  acknowledged  that  the  baron  had  considerably 
influenced  the  improvement  of  military  manners,  with  their 
own  morals,  and  the  cultivation  of  their  minds ;  and  that 


216 


OLIVIER  flyeln: 


he  had  lectured  on  various  subjects,  of  the  utmost  benefit 
to  military  men,  until  he  had  been  prohibited. 

"  Why  prohibited  ? "  I  asked,  with  astonishment. 

"  Why,  even  in  those  lectures,"  rejoined  one  of  my  com- 
panions, "  he  evinced  the  first  signs  of  a  disordered  state 
of  mind.  No  Jacobin  in  the  national  convention  at  Paris 
ever  denounced  with  greater  rage  our  monarchical  institu- 
tions, the  various  courts  of  Europe,  and  their  politics,  than 
he  sometimes  did.  He  said  without  any  hesitation,  that  at 
an  earlier  or  later  period  the  people  would  free  themselves 
and  the  kings  from  the  arbitrariness  of  their  ministers, 
from  priestcraft,  and  from  the  oppression  of  trade.  He 
also  said,  that  this  revolution  would  inevitably  pass  from 
nation  to  nation,  and  in  less  than  half  a  century  would 
change  the  whole  political  form  of  Europe.  He  was  very 
properly  and  justly  prohibited  from  continuing  his  lectures. 
At  times  he  would  declaim  most  furiously  against  the  no- 
bility and  their  privileges  ;  and  when  he  was  reminded  of 
his  being  a  baron  himself,  he  answered — '  You  are  foolish 
enough  to  call  me  so  ;  but  I  am  a  sensible  man,  and  by 
birth  no  more  than  our  provost.'  " 

"  Those  were  only  the  first  indications  of  the  disordered 
state  of  his  mind  !  "  exclaimed  a  young  lieutenant — "  but 
the  first  act  of  his  madness  was,  when  he  caught  hold  of 
the  Lieutenant-colonel  Baron  von  Berken,  boxed  his  ears, 
and  threw  him  down  the  stairs,  and  afterwards  did  not  dare 
to  accept  a  challenge  ;  by  which  circumstance  he  insulted 
the  whole  corps  of  officers^" 

"  He  used  to  be  a  very  good  fencer,  and  did  not  greatly 
fear  cold  steel,"  I  replied. 

"  Until  then  we  also  had  known  him  as  such,"  replied 
the  officer.  "  But,  as  I  said  before,  his  whole  nature  un- 
derwent a  change.  When  he  arrived  at  the  place  of  ac- 
tion, he  carried  no  weapons  but  a  whip  in  his  hand  ;  and  in 


A   FOOL   OF  THE   NINETEENTH   CENTURY.  217 

the  presence  of  us  all,  with  a  sardonic  smile,  he  said  to 
the  lieutenant-colonel :  '  Thou  contemptible  monkey,  were 
I  actually  to  maim  thee  with  my  sword,  wouldst  thou  be 
the  worthier  on  account  of  it  ? '  When  the  lieutenant- 
colonel,  no  longer  master  over  his  wrath,  drew  his  sword, 
the  major,  with  perfect  sang  froid,  presented  his  open  bosom 
to  his  stroke,  and  said :  i  If  thou  art  in  the  mind  of  be- 
coming an  assassin,  strike  ! '  When  we  were  about  to 
take  part  in  the  altercation  and  compel  Flyeln  to  fight  the 
lieutenant-colonel,  as  duty  and  honour  commanded,  he  call- 
ed the  whole  of  us  fools,  who,  with  our  nonsensical  prin- 
ciples of  honour,  ought  to  be  in  a  mad-house  or  a  jail. 
This  confirmed  us  in  our  opinion  of  his  being  actually  mad. 
Some  of  us  abused  him.  He  only  laughed  at  us.  We 
repaired  to  the  general,  and  informed  him  of  the  whole 
proceeding.  The  general  was  greatly  mortified,  and  the 
more  so  because  he  had  received  on  that  same  day  a  badge 
of  distinction  for  the  major  from  the  court.  He  requested 
us  to  keep  quiet,  and  he  would  make  him  give  satisfaction. 
On  the  next  morning  at  the  parade,  the  general  handed  him, 
according  to  his  directions,  the  order  of  knighthood,  with 
an  appropriate  address.  The  major  did  not  accept  of  it, 
but  answered  with  words  most  respectful,  but  things  most 
disrespectful — That  he  had  fought  against  Napoleon  in  be- 
half of  his  native  land,  and  not  for  a  piece  of  ribbon  ;  and 
if  he  was  deserving  of  praise  he  would  not  carry  it  on  his 
breast  like  a  show -thing  for  all  the  world  to  look  upon!  The 
general  was  beside  himself  with  terror.  No  praters,  no 
menaces  could  induce  the  major  to  accept  of  the  token  of 
royal  favour.  Then  the  officers  came  forth  and  declared 
that  they  could  no  longer  serve  with  the  major,  if  he  would 
not  give  the  lieutenant-colonel  satisfaction.  The  matter 
was  put  on  trial ;  the  major  was  taken  into  custody  and 
dismissed  by  the  royal  court.    Then  his  madness  broke 


218 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  : 


out  fully.  He  let  his  beard  grow  like  that  of  a  Jew  ; 
dressed  in  ridiculous  garments;  to  spite  his  relatives,  mar- 
ried a  common  but  pretty  girl,  a  foundling,  on  whose  ac- 
count he  had  previously  had  some  difficulties  with  the  lieu- 
tenant-colonel, and  considered  himself  for  a  long  time  th  e 
poorest  of  the  poor  ;  committed  various  follies,  and  was  at 
last,  by  a  royal  mandate,  taken  under  control,  and  exiled 
to  his  own  estates." 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  He  lives  on  his  estates  in  Flyeln,  in  the  castle  of  his 
deceased  uncle,  about  fifty  miles  distant  from  here,"  was 
the  reply.  "  For  a  year  nobody  was  permitted  to  visit  him 
without  having  permission  from  the  court.  Even  the  ad- 
ministratorship of  his  own  property  was  taken  from  him. 
It  has  again  been  resigned  to  him,  but  he  is  compelled 
to  render  an  annual  account  of  his  proceedings.  He  also 
is  not  allowed  to  go  a  step  beyond  the  boundaries  of  his 
own  dominions  ;  and  in  return,  he  has  most  solemnly  pro- 
nounced his  anathema  upon  the  whole  world,  and  suffers 
neither  relatives,  nor  acquaintances,  nor  friends,  to  see 
him.    Nothing  has  been  heard  of  him  for  several  years. 


CHAPTER  II. 
The  Visit. 

By  all  that  the  officers  said,  it^ras  evident  that  the  unfor- 
tunate Olivier,  after  having  lost  his  reason,  had  remained  a 
good-natured  FOOL,  and  that  probably  the  germanomania, 
which  several  years  since  took  possession  of  men's  minds, 
might  have  laid  a  strong  hold  of  him,  or  at  least  given  a 
colouring  to  his  derangement. 

All  this  wrought  a  powerful  effect  on  my  mind.    It  was 


A  FOOL  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  219 

late  at  night  before  I  could  sufficiently  compose  myself  to 
lie  down  to  sleep.  When  I  awoke  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, the  sun  was  already  high,  but  I  felt  refreshed  and 
strengthened.  The  world  appeared  to  me  in  a  much  se- 
rener  light  than  on  the  night  before  ;  and  I  concluded  to 
pay  my  deplorable  friend  a  visit  in  his  place  of  banish- 
ment. 

After  having  taken  a  superficial  look  at  all  the  objects 
worthy  of  being  seen  in  the  city,  I  proceeded  towards 
Flyeln,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  a  small  seaport.  The 
village  of  Flyeln  is  situated  ten  miles  from  that  town. 
When  the  postmaster  heard  whither  I  was  going,  he  smiled 
and  said,  that  I  might  perhaps  be  taking  a  fruitless  journey, 
since  the  baron  did  not  admit  any  strangers  to  his  presence. 
He  also  informed  me,  that  the  state  of  his  mind  had  by  no 
means  improved  ;  but  that  the  good  man  possessed  an 
idea  that  the  whole  world,  some  centuries  since,  had  be- 
come mad,  and  the  cure  was  to  go  out  from  Flyeln.  In 
this  process,  in  which  the  world  thought  him,  and  he  the 
world  mad,  he  had  separated  himself  from  all  mankind. 
His  peasants  and  tenants — for  he  is  lord  of  the  manor — 
feel  none  the  worse  on  account  of  his  whims,  for  he  does 
much  good  for  them.  But  they  must  obey  his  caprices  in 
all  trifles.  They  are  compelled  to  wear  wide  pantaloons, 
long  jackets,  and  round  hats.  They  must  let  their  beards 
grow,  and  are  commanded  to  address  all  persons,  at  least 
those  who  live  within  his  dominions,  and  even  himself, 
with  "  thou !  "  Except  this  freak,  he  is  the  most  sensible 
man  in  the  world. 

Notwithstanding  the  postmaster's  warning,  I  started  on 
my  journey  to  Flyeln.  What  did  I  care  to  travel  a  few 
miles  in  vain,  for  Olivier's  sake,  after  I  had  gone  so  far 
on  my  adventure  ?  I  did  not  find  any  cause  for  fearing 
that  he  would  refuse  to  see  me,  since  his  memory  had  not 


220 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  : 


sustained  any  loss.  The  road  was  certainly  very  miserable, 
and  at  that  time  was  but  seldom  travelled.  It  led  through 
deep  sands,  overflowing  rivulets,  marshy  ground,  and 
pine  bushes,  so  that  my  carriage  was  several  times  nearly 
upset. 

About  two  miles  from  Flyeln  the  country  became  higher  ; 
and  a  fine  broad  road,  on  either  side  of  which  luxurious 
fruit  trees  were  planted,  announced  the  proximity  of  the 
rich  lord  of  the  manor.  The  fields  in  the  broad  valley 
were  in  a  high  state  of  cultivation  ;  to  the  right  in  the 
distance  spread  a  dark  green  forest  of  oaks,  like  an  enor- 
mous sheet  of  leaves  ;  to  the  left  the  infinite  ocean,  a  wide 
waving  mirror,  which  mingled  together  with  the  brilliant 
clouds  at  the  edge  of  the  horizon.  Before  me  spread  the 
village  Flyeln,  situated  between  fruit  trees,  willows,  and 
poplars.  On  one  side  I  could  see  a  large  antique  build- 
ing,— the  castle, — which  rose  in  a  wood  of  wild  chestnuts. 
Below,  nearer  to  the  ocean,  was  the  village  of  Lower 
Flyeln,  also  belonging  to  Olivier's  domains,  leaning  in  a 
picturesque  manner  against  steep  rocks,  which  at  last  be- 
coming small  cliffs,  surrounded  with  bushes,  extended  like 
little  islands  far  into  the  ocean.  A  few  fishing-boats  with 
sails  swarmed  around  the  shores  ;  while  far  out  on  the 
sea  a  ship  in  full  sail  was  discernible  ;  and  a  multitude  of 
sea-gulls  fluttered  in  the  air. 

The  nearer  I  approached  the  village  and  the  castle,  the 
more  picturesque  and  inviting  was  the  surrounding  country. 
There  was  in  it  that  peculiar  charm  which  every  country 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  sea  bears  ;  a  charm  growing  out  of 
the  combination  of  rustic  sweets  with  the  majesty  of  the 
immeasurable  ocean;  and  out  of  the  retirement  and  peace- 
fulness  of  simple  huts,  with  the  wide,  stormy  life  of  the 
treacherous  elements.  The  place  of  banishment  of  my 
friend,  I  thought,  is  in  every  respect  so  charming,  that 


A  FOOL  OP  THE   NINETEENTH   CENTURY.  221 

without  grief  a  man  may  sacrifice  the  liberty  of  living 
amid  the  noise  of  a  city. 

I  saw  already  in  the  fields  and  in  the  gardens  the  an- 
nounced " Flyelnish  beards"  The  tavern-keeper,  before 
whose  house  I  halted  and  dismounted,  was  ornamented  with 
a  copious  growth  of  hair  around  his  chin  and  mouth.  He 
returned  my  salutation  with  a  friendly  mien,  but  seemed  to 
evince  some  astonishment  at  my  arrival.  "  Art  thou  go- 
ing to  see  the  lord  of  the  manor  ?  "  he  asked  politely.  I 
did  not  comment  on  this  somewhat  surprising  "  thou,"  and 
answered  his  question  in  the  affirmative.  "  Then  I  must 
request  thee  to  give  me  thy  name,  rank,  and  dwelling-place. 
Of  this  Mr.  Olivier  must  be  informed.  He  receives 
strangers  very  unwillingly." 

"  But  he  will  most  certainly  receive  me  " — I  replied. — 
"Have  a  message  conveyed  to  your  master,  that  one  of  his 
oldest  and  best  friends  is  desirous  of  passing  a  few  hours 
with  him.    You  need  say  no  more." 

"  As  thou  wilt  " — replied  the  host ; — "  but  I  can  predict 
that  thou  wilt  be  refused  admittance." 

While  the  host  was  looking  for  a  messenger,  I  walked 
slowly  through  the  village,  and  proceeded  in  the  straightest 
direction  towards  the  castle,  to  which  a  footpath  running 
between  houses  and  orofcards  seemed  to  conduct  me. 
However,  I  mistook  the  road.  Beyond  a  meadow,  ran  a 
rather  broad  rivulet,  behind  which,  casting  their  beautiful 
shade,  rose  the  high  wild  chestnut  trees  of  the  antique  man- 
sion of  the  Baron  von  Flyeln.  I  resolved  upon  the  enter- 
prise of  introducing  myself  to  Olivier,  without  being  pre- 
viously announced.  I  had  purposely  not  given  my  name 
to  the  host,  to  see  if  Olivier,  should  I  be  admitted,  would 
recognise  me.  I  walked  across  the  meadow,  and  found  a 
road  running  over  a  bridge,  and  then  through  underwood 
back  to  the  wild  chestnuts.    Those  cast  their  shade  over  an 


222 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  : 


open  place  beside  the  castle,  which  was  round,  expansive, 
and  covered  with  green  turf.  A  broad  road,  covered  with 
sand,  passed  around  the  whole  place.  To  the  right  and 
left,  beneath  the  broad  branches  of  the  trees,  stood  neat 
benches  for  reposing,  and  upon  one  of  them  sat  Olivier. 
He  was  reading  a  book.  A  child  about  three  years  of  age 
was  playing  at  his  feet  on  the  grass.  Beside  him  sat  a 
beautiful  female,  with  an  infant  at  her  breast.  There  was 
a  loveliness  in  the  group,  which  excited  my  admiration.  I 
stood  still,  hidden  from  their  sight  by  the  thick  bushes. 
My  eyes  were  fixed  only  on  Olivier.  Even  the  black  beard 
which  curled  around  his  chin  and  lips,  and  then  connected 
with  the  dark  locks  of  his  head,  became  him  well.  There 
was  something  peculiar,  and  yet  nothing  surprising,  in  his 
dress.  On  his  head  he  wore  a  kind  of  bonnet,  with  a 
screen  from  the  rays  of  the  sun.  His  breast  was  bare,  and 
his  broad  shirt  collar  fell  over  his  shoulders  ;  a  wide  green 
j  acket,  buttoned  up  in  front,  with  skirts  meeting  before  and 
reaching  down  to  the  knees,  wide  and  white  sailor  trow- 
sers,  and  half  boots  to  his  feet,  completed  his  attire.  His 
dress  corresponded  nearly  with  that  which  I  had  seen  his 
peasants  wear,  except  that  his  was  made  of  finer  stuff 
and  more  tastefully.  The  expression  of  his  countenance 
was  calm  and  reflective.  His  Ifeard  gave  him  a  heroic  ap- 
pearance. I  fancied  myself  looking  upon  a  noble  figure 
of  the  middle  ages. 

While  I  was  gazing  on  his  noble  form,  the  messenger 
from  the  keeper  of  the  tavern  stepped  into  the  circle  of 
trees.  The  young  fellow  took  off  his  little  bonnet,  and 
said, — "Sir,  a  stranger,  who  is  travelling  through  this 
country,  wishes  to  speak  with  thee.  He  calls  himself  one 
of  thine  oldest  and  best  friends." 

Olivier  looked  up,  and  said,—"  Travelling  through  this 
country  ?    Is  he  on  foot  ?  " 


A  FOOL  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  223 

"No,  he  arrived  in  a  chaise  " — said  the  youth. 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  Whence  does  he  come  1 " — 
asked  the  baron. 

"  He  will  not  tell  " — was  the  reply. 

"  Tell  him  not  to  disturb  me.  I  will  not  see  him  "—ex- 
claimed Olivier,  and  motioned  to  the  youth  to  depart. 

"  Thou  must  see  me  nevertheless,  Olivier," — I  exclaimed, 
stepping  forth  from  my  place  of  concealment,  and  bowing 
an  apology  to  the  lady.  Without  moving,  without  return- 
ing my  salutation,  he  turned  peevishly  his  head  towards 
me,  gazed  at  me  for  some  time  intently,  became  more  seri- 
ous, laid  down  his  book,  stept  before  me,  and  said,  "  Whom 
do  I  address  ?  " 

"  How  ?  Does  Achilles  not  recognise  his  Patroclus  1  " 
I  replied. 

"  O,  Popoi !  " — he  exclaimed  in  great  astonishment,  and 
spread  out  his  arms. — "  Welcome,  my  noble  Patroclus,  in  a 
French  coat  and  powdered  wig  !  "  Saying  this,  he  locked 
me  in  his  arms.  Despite  of  his  sarcastic  address,  we  both 
were  moved  to  tears.  In  that  embrace  vanished  a  space  of 
twenty  years.  We  again  breathed  as  we  did  on  the  shores 
of  the  Leine,  or  at  Bovenden,  or  in  the  ruins  of  the  castle 
Gleichen. 

He  then  led  me,  with  eyes  beaming  with  joy,  to  the 
charming  young  mother,  who  blushed  with  confusion,  and 
said  to  her — "  See,  this  is  Norbert,  thou  knowest  him  by 
many  of  my  narratives  !  " — and  to  me,  "  This  is  my  dear 
wife." 

She  smiled  at  me  from  under  her  locks,  with  affectionate 
benignity,  and  with  a  mien  and  voice  in  which  was  im- 
measurably more  of  goodness  than  in  her  words,  she 
said, — "  Noble  friend  of  my  Olivier,  thou  art  indeed  wel- 
come. I  have  long  desired  the  pleasure  of  a  personal  ac- 
quaintance." 


224  OLIVIER  FLYILN  : 

I  was  about  to  say  something  kind,  but  her  surprising, 
confidential,  and  friendly,  "  Thou,"  with  which  she  ad- 
dressed me,  a  stranger,  and  which  fell  so  naturally  from 
such  lovely  lips,  confused  me. 

"  Noble  lady !  " — I  stammered  at  length — "  by  a  circuitous 
route  of  more  than  a  hundred  miles,  I  have  not  bought  the 
pleasure  dearly,  of  passing  with  you  and  your  husband,  my 
oldest  friend  " 

"  Halloo  !  Norbert !  " — interrupted  Olivier,  with  a  smile. 
"  Right  at  the  beginning  of  a  preliminary  remark  and  a 
request.  Call  my  wife  as  thou  wouldst  thy  God,  simply 
Thou.  Do  not  break  in  upon  the  simple  manners  of 
Flyeln,  with  the  buffooneries  and  compliments  of  German 
masters  of  ceremonies,  for  that  would  make  a  disagreeable 
discord  in  our  ears.  Now  imagine  thyself  separated  from 
Germany  and  Europe,  by  two  thousand  years,  or  by  as 
many  miles  ;  and  that  thou  wert  again  living  in  a  natural 
world,  somewhere,  if  thou  wilt,  in  the  age  of  the  all-wise 
Ulysses." 

"  Thou  canst  very  easily  comprehend  ■*> — I  answered— 
"  that  to  be  with  a  woman  so  lovely,  on  terms  of  Thou  and 
Thee,  we  need  not  be  told  twice  ;  therefore,  Baroness, 
Thou  " 

"  Stop  once  more  !  " — exclaimed  Olivier,  laughing  loud- 
ly— "  Thy  baroness  suits  to  thou,  like  thy  French  coat 
and  shaved  beard  to  the  name  of  Patroclus.  My  peasants 
are  no  longer  bondsmen,  but  freemen ;  and  my  wife  and 
myself  are  no  more  nor  less  barons,  than  my  peasants  are. 
Call  my  Amelia  as  she  is  called  by  every  one  here, 
mother — the  noblest  name  a  woman  can  bear." 

"It  appears" — I  replied — "that  you  good  people  here 
have  founded  a  new  republic  in  the  midst  of  a  kingdom, 
and  that  you  have  done  away  with  all  nobility." 

"  Exactly  so ;   with  all  nobility,   except  that  of  the 


A  FOOL  OF  THE   NINETEENTH  CENTU3Y. 


225 


heart!" — responded  Olivier. — c<And*by  this,  thou  canst 
perceive  that  in  this  country  we  are  infinitely  more  aristo- 
cratic than  ye  are  in  your  Germany  ;  for  you  value  not  the 
nobility  of  the  heart  at  all,  and  your  nobility  of  birth  is 
sinking  into  the  mire,  where  by  right  it  ought  to  be  !  " 

"Pardon  me,  when  I  say  you  are  disposed  to  be  a 
little  jacobinical  " — I  answered. — "  Who  informed  thee 
that  the  nobility  of  birth  is  falling  in  the  opinion  of  the 
public  ? " 

"  O,  Popoi !  " — he  exclaimed — "  must  I  yet  instruct 
thee  ?  Many  years 'since  I  knew  a  poor  ragged  Jew,  whom 
your  pious  Christians  would  rather  have  known  unborn 
than  being  born.  But  he  soon  bartered  so  much  together, 
that  the  predicate  "  well-born"  was  ^prefixed  to  his  name 
when  he  received  letters  by  mail.  A  few  years  afterwards 
he  became  a  man  of  wealth,  and  the  polite  Germans  com- 
prehended immediately,  that  he  could  not  be  otherwise  than 
a  man  of  pure  and  noble  birth.  From  that  time  he  re- 
ceived the  title  of  "  His  excellency  the  banker."  But  the 
banker  assisted  the  ministers  of  finance  and  happiness — 
aided  the  ministers  of  the  war  department  when  they  were 
pinched  for  money,  and  the  useful  millionaire  was  made 
forthwith  a  "right  honourable  baron."  This  improvement 
of  the  German  minds,  this  mockery  of  nobility,  in  a  few 
decades,  will  lead  farther  than  you  would  be  willing  to 
credit.  But  I  hope,  when  nobility  of  birth  has  become  a 
mere  cipher  with  you,  the  nobility  of  the  heart  and  mind 
will  again  receive  validity." 

The  baroness  left  us  with  her  children,  in  order  to  put 
her  babe  to  rest,  and  to  arrange  my  room.  Olivier  led  me 
through  his  garden,  where  the  beds  were  filled  with  most 
beautiful  and  precious  flowers.  Round  a  fountain,  upon 
high  sockets  made  of  black  stone,  were  placed  white  mar- 
ble busts,  with  golden  inscriptions.  I  read — Socrates, 
11 


226 


OLIVIER   FLYELN  : 


Cincinnatus,  Columbus,  Luther,  Eartholemeo  des  lasCasas, 
Rousseau,  Peter  the  Great,  Franklin,  and  Washington. 

"  I  see  thou  art  still  fond  of  gccd  society  !  " — I  said. — 
"  Can  we  find  among  the  living,  persons  more  lovely  than 
thy  comely  wife,  and  thy  children  with  their  curly  heads  ; 
and  among  the  dead,  men  more  venerable  than  these  1 " 

"  Didst  thou  doubt  my  good  taste  ?  " — responded  Olivier. 

"Not  exactly;  but  Olivier,  I  am  informed  thou  hast 
withdrawn  thyself  from  the  whole  world  !  " — I  replied. 

"  Because  I  love  good  company" — said  Flyeln — "  which 
in  all  Europe  is  nowhere  less  to  be  found  than  in  your  so- 
ciety of  bon  ton." 

"  But  thou  surely  wilt  admit,  dear  Olivier  " — I  remark- 
ed— "that  good  society  can  exist  in  other  places  besides 
•Flyeln."' 

"  Most  certainly,  Norbert,  but  I  should  not  like  to  waste 
years  and  money  to  find  it" — answered  the  baron.  "Let 
us  break  off  this  subject.  Ye  Europeans  have  swerved  so 
enormously  from  the  holy  simplicity  of  nature,  both  in  mat- 
ters of  the  greatest  importance  and  in  trifles,  have  degenera- 
ted into  such  artificial  animals,  that  nature  has  become  un- 
natural with  you,  and  you  are  no  longer  able  to  understand 
a  man  of  simple  manners.  Ye  have  inwardly  and  outward- 
ly become  such  caricatures  of  the  human  race,  that  a  healthy 
being  must  needs  become  horrified  in  your  midst.  Nay, 
honest  Norbert,  let  us  break  off  this  subject.  Thou  wouldst 
not  understand  me  at  all  were  I  to  speak  freely.  Thou  hast 
my  respect,  love,  and  pity." 

"  Pity !  and  why  pity  1 "  I  asked. 

"  Because  thou  livest  among  fools,  and  against  thy  know- 
ledge art  compelled  to  be  a  fool  with  them  " — said  the  baron. 

When  he  said  this,  I  observed  that  Olivier  was  now  go- 
ing over  to  his  fixed  idea.  I  began  to  feel  rather  uncom- 
fortable.   I  was  eager  to  turn  his  attention  to  other  objects, 


A  FOOL  OP  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  227 

looked  anxiously  about  me,  and  commenced,  as  then  his 
beard  rather  surprised  me  again — praising  his  beard  and 
how  well  it  became  him—"  How  long  hast  thou  worn  it  ? " 
I  asked. 

"  Ever  since  I  returned  to  reason,  and  have  had  the  cour- 
age to  be  a  sensible  man.  Dost  thou  indeed  like  it,  Nor- 
bert?    Why  not  wear  one  too?"  asked  Flyeln. 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders,  and  said — "  If  it  were  the  gen- 
eral custom,  I  would  do  it  with  cheerfulness." 

"  There  it  is  ! " — answered  Olivier.  "  Because  foolish- 
ness has  made  it  customary  to  exterminate  every  vestige 
of  nature  even  on  men's  chins,  thou  hast  not  the  courage  to 
be  sensible  even  on  this  trifle.  Mother  Nature,  in  bestow- 
ing upon  us  this  manly  ornament,  did  it  for  as  good  a  rea- 
son as  when  she  gave  us  the  locks  on  our  heads.  But  man 
in  his  madness  imagined  himself  more  wise  than  his  crea- 
tor, smeared  soap  around  his  chin,  and  smoothed  it  with  a 
razor.  As  long  as  nations  had  not  entirely  fallen  off  from 
nature,  they  retained  the  beard.  Christ  and  his  apostles 
wore  it ;  Pope  Gregory  VII.  first  put  his  anathema  upon  it. 
Yet  the  clergymen  retained  it  longest,  as  at  the  present  day 
the  Capuchins  still  do !  But  when  old  fops  began  to  be 
ashamed  of  their  gray  hair,  they  commenced  exterminating 
it  from  their  chins,  and  to  conceal  it  on  their  heads  beneath 
wigs.  When  people  became  accustomed  to  belie  one  an- 
other in  all  things,  they  also  endeavoured  to  belie  their  age. 
Old  men  skipped  about  like  effeminate  young  men  with 
light  hair  and  a  smooth  chin ;  and  thus  their  dispositions 
became  also  more  effeminate.  And  since  no  one  any  longer 
had  courage  for  the  truth,  everybody  followed  their  ex- 
ample. Place  beside  the  heroic  form  of  an  Achilles,  Alex- 
ander, or  Julius  Caesar,  one  of  our  field-marshals,  or  gen- 
erals, in  their  tasteless  uniform  ;  one  of  our  elegants,  with 
his  thick  cravat,  and  a  dandy  with  his  dancing-master's 


t 


228  OLIVIER  FLYELN  .' 

strut  beside  an  Antinous  ;  thee,  Mr.  Secret-counsellor  von 
Norbert,  beside  a  Senator  of  Rome  or  Greece,  should  we 
not  be  compelled  to  laugh  at  our  self-caricatures  outright?" 

"  Thou  art  right,  Olivier  !  "  I  said,  rather  embarrassed, 
for  who  will  deny  that  the  old  Roman  or  Grecian  dress  is 
more  noble  than  ours  ?  But  we  of  the  North,  we  Euro- 
peans, always  habituated  to  it,  and  in  need  of  tight-fitting 
clothing,  should  feel  rather  uncomfortable  in  the  picturesque 
drapery  of  the  Orient  and  South." 

"  Look  at  me,  Norbert !  "  said  Olivier,  smiling  ;  and  he 
placed  himself  before  me,  pressed  the  bonnet  on  his  head  a 
little  on  one  side,  put  his  left  hand  firmly  and  boldly  upon 
his  hip,  and  said,  "  Would  I,  a  northman,  in  my  tight,  com- 
fortable, and  simple  dress,  make  a  bad  figure  beside  an  old 
Roman  ?  Why  do  we  still  admire  the  Spanish,  Italian,  and 
German  costumes  of  the  middle  ages  ?  Because  it  is  beau- 
tiful, notwithstanding  it  is  northern.  Julius  Caesar,  even  at 
the  present  day,  would  look  with  pleasure  at  an  Austrian 
cavalry  man  in  his  helmet,  or  even  at  a  hussar.  Why  do 
the  rest  of  you  stiff  gentlemen  not  follow  the  better  fashion 
already  begun  by  our  ladies,  since  they  have  left  off  wear- 
ing trains  and  toupes  ?  Were  you  once  ashamed  of  being 
walking  caricatures  in  outward  appearance,  you  might  then, 
perhaps,  become  inwardly  more  natural.  There  is  some 
truth  in  the  adage  :  4  Dress  makes  the  man.'' 99 

While  Olivier  spoke  thus,  he  stood  before  me,  like  the 
picture  of  a  powerful  hero  of  the  former  ages,  as  if  he  had 
gone  forth  alive  from  an  old  painting,  or  as  if  he  were  of  a 
world  which  we  can  only  admire,  but  not  re-establish. 

"  In  good  sooth  " — I  said — "  thou  dost  almost  reconcile 
me  to  an  honest  beard,  and  I  should  be  a  gainer  withal,  as 
then  I  might  escape  three  times  a  week  the  tortures  of  a 
barber." 

"Friend" — exclaimed  Olivier,  smiling — "it  could  net 


A  FOOL  OF  THE   NINETEENT  CENTURY. 


229 


rest  there  !  The  beard  makes  many  other  things  necessa- 
ry. Imagine  thy  figure  in  a  curly  beard,  add  to  this  the 
three-cornered  Jewish  hat,  the  powdered  wig,  with  the  rat- 
tail  in  the  back  of  thy  neck,  the  French  coat,  the  skirt  of 
which  looks  for  all  the  world  like  a  swallow's  tail,  or  that 
of  a  wag-tail.  Away  with  that  nonsense.  Dress  thyself 
modestly,  warm,  comfortably,  but  with  taste,  so  that  it  may 
please  the  eye,  and  not  distort  man's  noble  figure.  Banish 
all  that  is  unnecessary  ;  for  what  is  unnecessary  is  nonsensi- 
cal, and  what  is  nonsensical  is  unnatural," 

While  we  were  discussing  this  subject,  the  baroness  sent 
a  messenger  to  inform  us  that  dinner  was  ready.  I  walk- 
ed silently  afr  the  side  of  Olivier,  my  head  full  of  thoughts, 
which,  alas  !  I  dared  not  communicate  to  him.  The  feel- 
ings I  had  were  strange  indeed  ;  and  I  could  not  help  look- 
ing several  times  sideways  at  Olivier.  I  never  in  my  life 
had  heard  a  madman  philosophize  in  such  a  manner,  and  I 
could  not  oppose  any  radical  objections  to  his  observations 
on  European  dress.  What  he  said  appeared  to  me  correct. 
The  adage  that  children  and  fools  speak  truth,  might  very 
properly  have  been  applied  to  him. 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Dinner. 

While  on  our  way  to  the  castle,  I  felt,  on  account  of  Oli- 
vier's  predilection  for  the  old  Romans  and  Grecians,  a  lit- 
tle concerned  in  regard  to  our  dinner;  for  if  I  were  to 
judge  by  his  bonnet,  beard,  and  the  rest  of  his  attire,  I  could 
expect  nothing  else,  but  that  I  should  have  to  assume  a  po- 
sition at  table  not  at  all  agreeable  to  me,  either  to  lie  ac- 
cording to  the  old  Roman  fashion  at  full  length  on  bolsters, 
or  perhaps  to  sit  like  a  tailor,  in  the  precise  Oriental  style, 
with  my  legs  crossed  under  me,  and  thus  take  my  soup. 


230 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  ' 


The  amiable  baroness  came  to  meet  us,  and  conducted 
us  to  the  dining-room,  and  my  apprehensions  subsided  when 
on  entering  I  beheld  European  tables  and  chairs.  Twelve 
plates  were  upon  the  table.  The  rest  of  the  dinner  party- 
soon  assembled,  being  the  baron's  clerks  and  servants.  A 
comely  young  woman  remained  without  a  chair,  and  at- 
tended in  the  capacity  of  Hebe  at  the  patriarchal  meal. 
Before  we  sat  down,  the  baron  offered  up  a  short  prayer. 
We  then  began  to  partake  of  a  nutritious  soup.  The  meats 
were  excellent,  though  served  up  in  simple  style.  I  ob- 
served that  the  whole  which  his  table  furnished,  the  wine 
excepted,  consisted  of  the  productions  of  his  own  soil,  and 
of  the  neighbouring  ocean  ;  and  that  all  strange  spices,  even 
pepper,  were  missing. 

The  conversation  was  merry  and  general ;  it  related 
most  to  agricultural  business,  or  to  what  occurred  in  the 
country  surrounding  Flyeln.  The  domestics  in  the  pres- 
ence of  their  master  and  mistress  behaved  neither  bashful 
nor  indecorous,  but  very  politely  and  becoming.  I  felt 
among  those  fine  bearded  men  in  their  plain  attire,  with 
their  brotherly  and  yet  respectful  "  Thou" — I  might  almost 
say,  rather  foolish  and  ridiculous.  There  I  sat,  with  my 
powdered  wig,  stiff  queue,  dress-coat,  and  smooth-shaven 
chin,  in  the  midst  of  Europeans,  as  if  I  were  in  a  strange 
part  of  the  world.  It  was  very  agreeable  to  me  that,  great- 
ly as  I  personally  contrasted  with  all  by  which  I  was  en- 
circled, and  frequently  as  between  the  "  Thou,"  particular- 
ly when  I  addressed  myself  to  the  baroness,  a  "  You"  slipt 
from  my  lips,  not  one  of  them  was.  disposed  to  laugh  at  my 
singularity. 

In  half  an  hour  the  domestics  left  us  to  ourselves,  and  as 
we  three  enjoyed  our  dinner  alone,  our  conversation  be- 
came more  confidential. 

"  I  could  see  it  in  thy  face,"  said  the  baroness,  as  she 


A  FOOL  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  231 


placed  on  the  table  a  few  sweatmeats,  "that  thou  didst 
miss  in  Flyeln  the  kitchen  of  Hamburg  or  Berlin." 

"  And  I  can  by  thine,  my  amiable  friend,"  I  answered, 
"  that  I  owe  to  the  kitchen  of  Flyeln  the  praise  it  deserves, 
which,  without  flattery,  I  am  bound  to  bestow  upon  it,  at 
the  expense  of  the  Berlin  and  Hamburg  kitchens.  Nay,  I 
will  confess,  that  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  have  learned 
to  admire  the  delicious  fare  our  native  soil  can  serve  up, 
and  how  easy  we  might  do  without  the  Moluccas." 

"  Add,  friend  Norbert,"  said  Olivier,  "  to  the  Moluccas 
the  over-excitement  of  our  nerves,  and  those  strange  vices 
which,  in  our  sickly  bodies,  are  the  products  of  over-excited 
nerves,  or  of  nerves  blunted  with  excitement.  Mind  and 
body  are  intimately  connected,  and  the  one  cannot  be  vivid 
and  energetic  without  the  other  being  in  a  healthy  con- 
dition. Most  Europeans  of  the  present  day,  with  their  arts 
of  cooking,  commit  suicide  and  murder,  both  on  body  and 
soul.  What  your  Rousseaus  and  Pestalozzis  would  make 
good,  ye  kill  again  with  coffee,  tea,  pepper,  nutmegs 
and  cinnamon.  Live  simply,  live  naturally,  and  ye  may 
save  two-thirds  of  your  books  of  morals,  jails  and 
dungeons." 

"  I  admit  it,"  I  said,  "  and  it  has  long  been  known,  but 

________  5? 

"  Well,  then,"  exclaimed  Olivier,  "  even  in  that  consists 
the  until-hitherto  madness  of  the  Europeans.  They  know 
what  is  good,  and  yet  avoid  it.  They  detest  what  is  bad, 
and  yet  seek  it.  They  mix  with  their  food  and  drink,  expen- 
sive poisons,  and  employ  doctors  and  apothecaries  to  make 
them  well  again,  that  they  may  be  enabled  to  renew  the 
poisoning.  They  accelerate  the  premature  maturity  of 
boys  and  girls,  and  are  afterwards  terrified  at  their  intrac- 
table propensities.  They  stimulate  by  laws  and  rewards 
the  corruption  of  morals,  and  punish  them  afterwards  with 


232 


OLIVIER  FLYELIf  : 


the  gibbet  and  scaffold.  Are  they  not  altogether  like  the 
inmates  of  a  mad-house  ? 99 

"  But,  my  dear  Olivier,"  I  replied,  "  has  not  this  been  at 
all  times  so  ?  " 

"Yes,  Norbert,  at  all  times,"  added  Flyeln,  "that  is,  as 
soon  and  as  often  as  man  moved  one  step  further  from 
nature,  and  approached  closer  to  barbarism.  But  Ave,  who 
are  at  last  warned  by  the  deleterious  effects  it  had  on  our 
fathers,  ought  not  only  to  know  more  than  they  did,  but  we 
ought  also  to  have  more  wisdom ;  else,  wherefore  our 
knowledge  ?  I  hold  him  the  most  sensible  man,  who  with 
the  innocence  and  purity  of  a  child  of  nature,  can  unite  the 
manifold  knowledge  and  intelligence  of  the  age.  Dost 
thou  admit  this,  Norbert  ? " 

"  Why  should  I  not  ? "  I  rejoined. 

"  How,  thou  dost  admit  it  ?  And  why  not  make  a  com- 
mencement for  the  better  in  thy  house  and  innerself  ? " 
said  Olivier. 

"  Under  certain  circumstances  this  might  become  possi- 
ble, but  I  must  confess,  Olivier,"  was  my  reply,  "  that  we 
artificial  men,  as  well  as  the  most  simple  children  of  nature, 
are  fettered  by  the  chains  of  habit,  difficult  to  be  rent 
asunder.  Our  artificial  being  and  manners  in  themselves, 
have  become  already  a  kind  of  nature,  which  we  cannot  lay 
suddenly  by,  without  feeling  the  worse  for  doing  so." 

"  At  first,  I  thought  like  thyself,  'Norbert,"  remarked  the 
baron;  "experience  has  convinced  me  of  the  contrary.  It 
wanted  but  one  severe  moment,  a  strong  heart  first  to  en- 
dure the  combat  with  the  madness  of  the  world,  and  then 
to  break  the  way  to  happiness  and  peace.  I  wavered,  and 
struggled  long  in  vain.  A  mere  accident  decided  me,  and 
that  accident  determined  my  happiness,  and  the  happiness 
of  all  those  whom  I  call  mine  own." 

"  And  this  accident,  give  me  also  to  know  it !  "  I  said, — 


A   FOOL  OF  THE   NINETEENTH   CENTURY.  233 

for  1  was  eager  to  be  informed,  what  had  wrought  so 
powerful  an  effect  on  the  heart  and  mind  of  my  friend,  as 
to  entice  him  to  the  most  singular  whims,  and  the  most 
fanatic  manner  of  living  and  acting. 
He  arose  and  left  us. 

"  Is  it  not  so,  Norbert,"  asked  the  baroness,  after 
having  looked  at  me  for  some  time  in  silence ;  and  in  the 
sweet  smile  of  her  eyes,  there  was  a  question  to  my  heart 
— "  Thou  dost  pity  my  husband  1 " 

"  Only  the  unfortunate,  not  the  fortunate  command  our 
pity,"  I  answered,  endeavouring  to  evade  the  question. 

"  Thou  knowest,  perhaps,"  she  said,  "  that  his  relatives 
and  former  acquaintances  despise  him,  and  that  all  the 
world  treat  him  like  a  maniac." 

"  My  amiable  friend,"  I  replied,  "  perhaps  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  trifles,  which  seem  to  me  exaggeration, 
and  which  by  a  prudent  circumspection  might  be  avoided, 
so  as  not  to  become  offensive — with  the  exception  of  this,  I 
must  acknowledge  that  I  have  found  in  Olivier  nothing 
worthy  of  disgust  and  contempt.  But  as  yet  I  know  him 
too  little." 

"  My  friend,"  she  continued,  "  has  the  voice  of  public 
opinion  no  weight  with  thee  ?  " 

"  At  least  none  regarding  Olivier,"  I  answered,  "  for  I 
know  very  well  that  the  public  opinion  of  Jerusalem  once 
cried  out  to  crucify  innocence  ;  that  public  opinion  has 
called  destroyers  of  nations  great ;  that  it  has  considered 
wise  men  maniacs  ;  and  that  it  has  ornamented  the  priests 
of  folly  and  luxury  with  the  title  '  Divine  '  !  " 

"  I  am  greatly  rejoiced  at  this,"  said  the  baroness 
with  vivacity,  "  thou  wilt  love  my  Olivier,  thou  art  a  noble 
man,  and  worthy  his  friendship.  Ah  !  believe  me,  Olivier 
is  a  true  dignitary  of  mankind,  and  yet  he  is  expelled  by 
human  society,  as  if  he  were  a  criminal  or  a  madman." 
11* 


234 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  : 


While  we  were  conversing,  Olivier  returned.  In  his 
hand  he  carried  a  small  book.  He  threw  himself  into  a 
chair,  and  said — "  Behold  here  the  instrument  of  an  all- 
wise  Providence,  for  the  healing  of  my  weakness  and  for 
the  awakening  me  out  of  my  madness.  It  is  an  unim- 
portant book.  Its  author  is  neither  named  nor  known.  It 
treats  on  much  which  is  common  and  every-day  matter  ; 
but  it  contains  also  unlooked-for  rays  of  light.  Even  the 
title,  "  Reveries  of  a  Philanthropist,"  does  not  promise 
much.  When  I  was  at  the  garrison,  I  found  it  one  day  on 
the  table  of  an  acquaintance,  and  put  it  in  my  pocket  for 
the  purpose  of  having  something  to  read  during  a  walk, 
which  I  was  about  to  take  on  the  greensward  before  the 
gates  of  the  city.  When  I  was  lying  under  the  broad 
shades  of  a  maple,  and  felt  fretted  about  the  various  per- 
versities of  this  life,  I  opened  this  book,  and  my  eye  fell 
upon  a  section,  entitled — "  Fragment  from  the  Travels  of 
the  Younger  Pythias  in  Thule." 

"Let  me  hear,"  I  said,  "  what  the  old  Greek  of  Massilia 
has  to  say  of  our  North.  It  is  recorded,  that  he  was 
a  contemporary  of  Aristotle." 

Fragment  from  the  Travels  of  the  Younger 
Pythias  in  Thule. 

 "  But  I  speak  truth,  O  friends,  notwithstanding 

it  appeareth  incredible.  Yet  ye  must  bear  in  mind,  that 
in  those  rough  countries  of  the  North,  even  nature  herself 
doth  push  her  children  away  from  her  bosom  ;  and  in  deny- 
ing them  many  things,  that  she  compelled  them  to  make 
many  ingenious  inventions  whereby  life  is  rendered  sup- 
portable. Such  things  we  stand  not  in  need  of  in  our 
native  land,  since  nature  has  been  more  kind  to  man,  and 
since  in  summer  and  winter  we  live  in  the  open  air,  and 


A  FOOL  OF  THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  235 


gain  without  labour  what  is  necessary  for  the  prolonging 
and  comfort  of  existence.  But  they,  who  are  suffering 
from  the  severity  of  a  winter  lasting  half  a  year,  must 
endeavour  to  find  means  wherewith  to  create  in  their 
dwellings  an  artificial  summer.  And  since  nature  re* 
pulseth  them,  and  banisheth  them  within  themselves,  they 
are  more  than  we  are,  driven  to  occupy  the  mind  with  vain 
dreams ;  beautiful  but  unpracticable  designs  ;  and  to  the 
exploring  of  all  things  worthy  to  be  known,  on  account  of 
which  they  are  rich  in  knowledge,  and  well  informed  in 
objects,  neither  conducive  to  wisdom,  nor  to  the  establish- 
ment of  human  happiness.  They  write  also  voluminous 
works  about  things  that  are  useless,  to  which  we  pay  no 
attention,  and  the  names  of  which  are  scarcely  known  to  us. 
Yea,  for  that  purpose  they  have  erected  also  even  schools 
and  pulpits  ." 

"  But  the  weather  is  of  such  a  nature  in  that  north- 
ern side  of  the  world,  that  heat  and  frost,  days  and  nights, 
pass  from  one  extreme  to  the  other  extreme,  so  that  they 
scarcely  ever  experience  a  pleasant  middle  state,  which  is 
beneficial  to  mind  and  body.  For  in  their  summers  they 
suffer  as  much  from  excess  of  heat,  as  in  their  winter  from 
the  severity  of  cold.  One  half  of  the  year  their  days  con- 
sist of  eighteen  hours,  in  the  other  half  they  scarcely  number 
six.  Just  as  unsettled  and  extravagant  in  that  country  are 
the  dispositions  of  the  people,  and  as  changeable  as  their 
weather.  They  lack  nearly  all  firmness  of  mind  and  will. 
From  one  year  to  the  other  they  have  new  costumes,  new 
kinds  of  poetry,  and  new  philosophies.  Those  who  yester- 
day overthrew  tyranny,  return  to-morrow  again  of  their  own 
free-will  into  bondage,  after  having  extolled  the  benefits  of 
liberty  with  their  lips,  and  abused  it  with  their  mode  of- 
living  ." 

"  There  exists  consequently  among  those  barba- 


23G 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  : 


rians  the  greatest  inequality  in  all  things.  One  part  of 
the  people,  consisting  of  a  few  families,  are  possessed  of 
every  comfort  and  the  greatest  wealth,  who  revel  in 
abundance  ;  but  the  great  majority  are  poor  and  altogether 
dependent  on  the  favours  of  the  wealthy.  A  very  small 
body  of  those  people  are  in  possession  of  the  treasures  of 
knowledge,  and  the  multitude  pass  their  lives  in  the 
darkness  of  ignorance.  Princes  and  state  priests  find 
such  ignorance  conducive  to  the  promotion  of  their  own 
dignity  and  emoluments,  in  consideration  of  which  they 
keep  the  people  in  debasement,  who  through  poverty  and 
laziness  are  already  so  inclined  to  be.  The  vulgar  people 
love  the  accustomed  manners  of  their  ancestors,  in  all 
usages,  regulations,  and  other  things  appertaining  to  the 
mind,  and  only  in  matters  of  bodily  enjoyment,  are  they 
inclined  to  a  change.  They  will,  however,  approve  of  any 
innovation,  whether  just  or  unjust,  if  it  yields  them  money, 
or  some  domestic  advantage  ;  for  those  barbarians  put  a 
much  higher  estimate  on  wealth  and  spirituous  drinks, 
than  on  moral  habits,  honour  and  piety. 

"  Of  liberty,  those  people  in  Thule  know  nothing ;  and 
whatever  liberty  they  may  have  had  in  the  days  of  yore,  by 
degrees  they  have  been  despoiled  of  it,  through  the  power 
and  cunning  of  the  mighty.  They  are  governed  by  kings 
who  pretend  to  be  the  sons  of  gods,  and  the  kings  and  their 
satraps  are  more  often  ruled  by  their  concubines  and  fa- 
vourites, than  they  are  by  their  counsellors.  The  people  are 
divided  into  hereditary  castes,  similar  to  the  Egyptians  and 
the  Indians.  The  first  caste  includes  the  kings  themselves 
and  their  children.  To  the  second  caste  belong  the  nobles, 
so  called,  whose  children,  without  regard  to  merit,  are  in- 
trusted with  the  highest  oflices  in  the  army,  in  the  state, 
and  even  at  the  altar  of  their  imaginary  deities.  For  what 
would  seem  incredible  to  us,  is  with  those  barbarians  an 


A  FOOL  OF  THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


237 


old  custom  ;  that  the  caste  of  birth  stands  above  all 
other  3ierit.  Iii  the  third  caste,  live  the  lower  officers, 
the  mechanics,  the  merchants,  common  soldiers,  the  shep- 
herds and  cultivators  of  the  soil,  also  the  artists,  men  of 
science,  and  the  common  priests.  In  the  fourth  caste,  are 
the  bondsmen,  or  the  slaves,  who,  like  other  domestic  ani- 
mals, can  be  sold  or  given  away !  With  a  few  nations, 
however,  who  have  already  laid  their  first  barbarism  in 
part  aside,  this  fourth  and  last  of  the  castes  is  no  longer  in 
vogue.  Several  nations  also  can  be  found,  among  whom 
good  princes,  after  having  become  sensible  of  the  tyranny 
practised  by  their  great  men,  make  no  laws  except  by  the 
consent  of  a  senate,  who  are  elected  out  of  the  various 
castes  of  the  people. 

"  The  kings  in  the  countries  of  Thule  live  among  each 
other  in  an  almost  continual  state  of  enmity.  The  weaker 
are  only  secure  through  the  mutual  envy  of  the  more  pow- 
erful. But  wheresoever  the  more  powerful  lose  this  mutu- 
al jealousy,  under  some  bad,  fictitious  pretext,  they  assail 
the  weaker  states  with  war,  and  divide  them  among  them- 
selves. For  this  wickedness  they  permit  the  titles  of  the 
just  fathers  of  their  country,  or  of  heroes,  to  be  given 
them  ;  since  such  tyrants,  vain  by  names,  everywhere,  and 
at  all  times,  have  been  admired  by  those  barbarians.  But 
as  often  as  the  lower  caste  in  any  country,  making  use  of 
their  better  understanding,  rebel  against  the  inordinate 
preferences  of  the  higher  caste,  all  the  princes  and  higher 
castes  of  the  other  dominions  discard  their  particular  quar- 
rels, and  unite  to  re-establish  on  the  foreign  soil,  the  former 
order  of  despotic  oppressions  under  false  pretexts  of  being 
entirely  disinterested,  and  the  glorious  title  of  a  "  Holy 
Alliance."  Those  wars  the  stupid  barbarians  always  deem 
just  and  sacred,  because  they  believe  that  kings  and  the 
other  castes  have  been  instituted  by  the  gods  themselves. 


238 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  : 


"Among  all  public  expenses,  that  which  sustains  the 
splendour  of  the  courts  is  the  greatest ;  and  next  to  this, 
the  expense  for  the  maintaining  of  the  armies,  even  in 
times  of  peace,  is  the  most  important.  For  the  instruction 
of  the  people,  for  agriculture,  and  for  everything  enhancing 
the  happiness  of  man,  the  least  amount  is  given.  In  most 
of  the  countries  in  Thule,  where  the  working  caste  has  the 
greatest  number  of  duties  to  perform,  and  where  they  enjoy 
the  least  privileges,  that  caste  is  generally  compelled  to 
satisfy  the  luxury  and  the  cravings  of  the  commonwealth, 
by  paying  taxes.  In  regard  to  the  religion  of  those  barba- 
rians, they  all  assert  that  they  have  one  and  the  same, 
and  they  all  pride  themselves  on  one  and  the  same  founder 
of  their  doctrines.  But  their  external  services  are  various, 
and  also  the  opinions  entertained  with  regard  to  the  found- 
er of  their  religion.  The  different  parties,  on  account  of 
this,  show  great  reciprocal  animosity.  They  persecute  and 
despise  each  other.  There  is,  however,  vast  superstition 
prevailing  among  all  parties,  which  is  kept  alive  by  their 
priests.  Their  notions  of  the  Divine  Majesty  are  quite  un- 
worthy of  such  a  being,  for  they  endow  Him  even  with 
human  passion  ;  and  when  the  kings  lead  their  people 
against  each  other  to  war,  the  priests  on  all  sides  are  com- 
manded to  call  on  the  Supreme  Being  for  the  destruction  of 
their  opponents.  After  the  victory  is  achieved,  they  give 
thanks  to  the  Almighty  Sovereign,  for  having  destroyed 
their  enemies. 

"Their  books  of  history,  with  few  exceptions,  are  scarcely 
worthy  to  be  read,  for  they  generally  contain  little  informa- 
tion about  nations,  but  speak  merely  of  kings  and  their 
marriages,  successions,  wars,  and  violence.  The  names 
of  the  most  useful  inventors  and  benefactors  are  scarcely 
touched  upon ;  but  the  names  of  devastating  generals  oc- 
cupy everywhere  the  first  place,  as  if  they  were  the  bene- 


A  FOOL  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  239 

factors  instead  of  being  the  destroyers  of  mankind.  Since 
the  customs  of  those  people  differ  so  much  from  ours,  their 
history  is  very  difficult  to  understand.  For  neither  at  all 
times,  nor  at  one  and  the  same  time,  nor  in  all  ranks,  pre- 
vails the  same  notion  of  honour  and  virtue.  In  the  higher 
castes,  licentiousness,  dissipation,  a  rage  for  gambling,  and 
abuse  of  power,  are  called  praiseworthy,  or  at  least  ap- 
pear as  a  graceful  weakness ;  but  in  the  lower  castes,  they 
are  denounced  as  vices  and  crimes,  and  are  punished  with 
incarceration  and  death.  Against  cheating  and  theft,  the 
law  has  instituted  for  the  lower  castes  the  severest  punish- 
ment ;  but  when  a  great  man  defrauds  the  country  by  sub- 
tlety, or  enriches  himself  at  the  public  cost  by  knavery,  he 
is  frequently  advanced  in  honour,  or  dismissed  with  a  pen- 
sion. As  it  is  with  virtues  and  vices,  so  it  is  with  honour. 
The  members  of  the  higher  castes  need  no  other  honour 
than  that  of  their  birth,  to  become  worthy  of  all  preference  ; 
but  the  lower  castes  seldom  can  rise  by  means  of  their 
virtues  to  an  equal  respectability  enjoyed  by  those  favour- 
ites of  chance.  But  the  honour  which  has  its  origin  in 
chance  of  birth,  just  as  accidentally  may  be  annihilated  by 
a  mere  word  of  abuse.  Yet  stranger  far  is  their  manner 
of  redeeming  that  honour  !  He,  who  by  a  word  has  viola- 
ted that  honour,  and  he  who  is  the  sufferer,  according  to  a* 
prescribed  form,  like  madmen  meet  in  arms,  and  endeavour 
to  wound  or  kill  each  other.  So  soon  then,  as  a  wound 
or  death  has  been  inflicted,  no  matter  to  which  of  the  com- 
batants this  may  happen,  they  believe  sincerely  that  their 
honour  is  redeemed  ! 

"  These  barbarians,  however,  have  one  common  and  uni- 
versal propensity  ;  the  whole  mass  are  bent  upon  gain, 
for  which  they  will  jeopard  both  virtue  and  life.  It  is  one 
of  the  rarities  which  excite  both  astonishment  and  laugh- 
ter, when  a  person  works  for  another  without  renumera- 


240 


OLIVIER   FLYELN  : 


tion,  or  when  one  sacrifices  his  property  for  the  benefit  of 
the  commonwealth.  They  prate,  however,  constantly 
about  noble  sentiments  and  generous  actions,  but  only  on 
the  stage  in  a  theatre,  can  those  be  seen  in  their  purity. 
The  inhabitants  of  Thule,  almost  without  exception,  bear 
resemblance  to  those  players,  and  they  have  great  skill  in 
the  art  of  assuming  a  character  which  they  do  not  possess. 
Scarcely  one  of  them  will  speak  to  another  as  he  thinks, 
wherefore  they  call  the  knowledge  of  human  nature  the 
greatest  and  most  difficult  of  arts,  and  craftiness  the 
height  of  wisdom. 

"  They  cannot,  however,  dissemble  so  much  as  to  make 
their  own  knavery  or  awkwardness  undiscoverable.  For 
as  they  are  living  in  a  continual  contradiction  with  human 
reason,  teach,  and  act,  and  feel,  and  speak  differently  from 
their  real  intentions,  and  often  choose  for  their  purposes 
the  most  absurd  means,  their  rudeness  and  duplicity  become 
apparent.  In  order  to  incite  to  agriculture,  they  burden  the 
husbandman  with  the  heaviest  taxes,  and  heap  upon  him  the 
greatest  contempt.  To  stimulate  trade  and  commerce,  they 
build  custom-houses,  and  prohibit  the  importation  of  num- 
berless articles  of  merchandize.  To  punish  and  amend 
fallible  men,  they  incarcerate  them  together  in  public  jails, 
•where  they  poison  one  another  with  more  vices,  and 
whence  they  return  into  society  accomplished  villains. 
To  maintain  healthful  constitutions,  they  pervert  the  order 
of  living.  Some  keep  awake  during  the  night  and  sleep 
in  the  day-time.  Others  consume  the  saps  of  their  bodies 
with  spirituous  drinks  and  spices,  so  that  scarcely  a  poor 
family  is  found  who  are  contented  with  the  production  of 
their  own  soil  and  hearth,  without  adding  stimulants  from 
Arabia,  and  spices  from  India." 

Here  Olivier  stopped  reading,  and  looked  at  me  inqui- 
ringly. 


A  FOOL  OF  THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  241 


I  replied  with  a  smile — "  It  must  be  acknowledged  the 
tone  is  well  sustained.  One  of  the  old  Grecian  philoso- 
phers would  nearly  have  spoken  so  of  the  barbarous  na- 
tions of  Asia,  had  he  visited  them.  Very  clever  !  Even 
the  stiffness  of  style  indicates  its  being  a  translation.  I 
do  not,  however,  believe  in  its  authenticity,  for  as  far  as  I 
know,  we  have  nothing  of  Pythias,  except — " 

Olivier  interrupted  me  with  immoderate  laughter,  and 
exclaimed — "  O  thou  child  of  the  eighteenth  century,  who 
for  ever  art  fumbling  about  the  shell  of  things,  forget- 
ting the  kernel  on  account  of  it,  who  for  ever  dost  cleave  to 
the  shadow  without  penetrating  the  substance,  dost  thou 
not  hear  and  see,  that  thou  thyself  art  a  citizen  of  Thule  ? 
What  ?  Asia  ?  Nay,  thus  would  a  Greek  philosopher  of 
the  anterior  world  have  written  about  the  Europeans,  could 
he  have  visited  you  at  this  time  !  " 

"  Very  true,  Olivier  " — I  replied — "  but  thou  didst  not  suf- 
fer me  to  finish  my  sentence.  I  yet  would  add,  that  those 
fragments  are  a  sort  of i  Leiires  PersannesS  We  are  meant 
by  it.  The  pointed  truth  cannot  be  mistaken." 
-  "I understand  thee  but  half,  thou  artificial  man  " — retort- 
ed Flyeln.  "Dost  thou  judge  of  the  author's  special  art, 
whether  he  has  hit  the  truth  ?  Or  dost  thou  mean  the  truth 
has  hit  thee  ? " 

"I  mean  both  !  But,  my  dear  Olivier" — I  remarked — 
"  a  little  while  ago  thou  saidst,  that  it  made  a  more  painful 
impression  upon  thee.  Thou  didst  lie  with  this  book  be- 
neath the  shades  of  a  maple.    Go  on  with  thy  narrative." 

"  Well,  there  I  lay" — Olivier  continued.  "When  I  had 
read  these  fragments,  I  threw  the  book  from  me,  sunk  with 
my  head  back  into  the  grass,  and  gazed  above  me  into  the 
dark  blue  of  the  eternal  ether,  and  into  the  depths  of  the 
unbounded  universe.  I  thought  of  God — the  All-fulfilling  ; 
with  the  love  and  glory  of  the  all-penetrating  Creator.  I 


242 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  : 


reflected  on  the  eternity  of  my  existence  in  this  infinitude  ; 
and  at  that  moment  of  exaltation  I  understood  much  better 
the  words  of  Christ,  when  he  said — 'In  my  Father's  house 
are  many  mansions — Become  like  children — Whosoever 
wishes  to  become  my  disciple,  let  him  deny  this  world, 
and  take  up  his  cross.'  I  never  saw  the  divinity  of  Christ 
so  clearly  as  at  that  time.  I  thought  of  the  degeneracy 
of  the  human  race  ;  how  from  one  thousand  to  another 
thousand  years,  they  had  always  gone  further  away  from 
the  paths  of  truth,  simplicity  and  rectitude,  towards  the 
brutal,  artificial,  mad,  and  sorrowful  road  of  life.  My 
thoughts  carried  me  back  to  the  primitive  world,  to  the  first 
nations,  and  to  the  ancients.  I  sighed  ;  and  my  eyes  were 
bedewed  with  tears.  My  thoughts  made  me  long  to  be  a 
child  of  God.  Why  cannot  I  feel  truth,  think  truth,  speak 
truth,  and  act  truth  like  Jesus  Christ?  Can  I  not  strip  off 
the  fetters  of  habit  ?  Is  it  not  merely  a  stupid  timidity,  that 
prevents  me  from  being  amongst  madmen,  amongst  per- 
verted barbarians,  a  reasonable  man  !  to  be  a  man  of  God  ? 
Thus  I  spoke.  In  my  imagination  I  was  so  already.  I 
closed  my  eyes.  I  experienced  comfort  unspeakable,  at 
being  freed  from  a  world  tormented  by  its  brutalized  con- 
dition ;  and  at  being  again  reconciled  to  God,  and  nature, 
with  the  universe  and  eternity.  In  this  manner  I  long  re- 
posed ;  for  when  I  opened  my  eyes,  the  sun  was  below  the 
horizon,  and  the  red  of  evening  floated  about  and  gilded 
every  object." 

"  I  know  that  holy  condition  " — said  the  baroness. 

"  When  I  rose  to  return  again  to  the  town  " — continued 
Olivier — "  and  my  eyes  fell  upon  my  uniform,  I  felt  as  if  a 
stroke  of  lightning  had  shot  across  me.  With  loathing  I 
looked  upon  the  foolery  and  inconsistency  of  this  world. 
Never  did  I  see  so  clearly  the  frightful  falling  off  of  man- 
kind from  what  is  eternal,  true,  and  holy,  as  at  that  mo- 


A  FOOL  OF  THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  243 


ment.  I  perceived,  that  were  Socrates  now  living,  he 
would  have  again  to  drink  the  poisonous  cup — that  Christ, 
were  he  walking  about  among  us,  would  again  find  a  Jerusa- 
lem in  every  city — that  the  Christian  sects  with  unanimity 
again  would  nail  him  to  the  cross — that  the  princes  of  the 
kingdoms  a  second  time  would  condemn  him,  as  an  enemy 
of  the  established  order,  as  a  misleader  of  the  people,  and 
as  a  fanatic  ! — I  shuddered  ;  and  then  asked  myself,  in  a 
loud  tone  of  voice — '  Hast  thou  the  courage  ? '  The  firm 
will  grappled  my  soul,  and  I  answered  to  myself  in  the 
same  tone  of  voice — '  I  have  the  courage  ;  it  shall  be  so. 
I  will  become  a  rational  being,  whatever  the  consequences 
may  be.'  " 

"On  the  next  morning  I  awoke  from  refreshing  sleep,  and 
had  nearly  forgotten  all  that  I  had  thought  of  on  the  previous 
evening — when  my  eyes  fell  again  on  this  book.  I  re- 
membered my  resolution — and  perceived  the  danger  of  my 
hazardous  enterprise.  I  vacillated  ;  and  yet  I  was  bound 
to  acknowledge  the  truth  of  my  convictions.  'Whosoever 
wishes  to  be  my  disciple,  let  him  deny  himself,'  said 
Christ.  I  scanned  my  domestic  and  public  circumstances. 
I  appeared  to  myself,  like  the  rich  young  man  in  the  Gos- 
pel, who  parted  in  sadness  from  Christ.  Then  I  asked 
myself  again — '  Hast  thou  the  courage  V — and  in  a  loud 
voice  I  answered — '  I will  have  it.'  From  that  hour,  I  re- 
solved to  act  rationally  in  trifles  as  well  as  in  matters  of 
the  greatest  moment.  Make  but  the  first  step  without 
taking  heed  of  the  scoff  of  the  world,  and  the  difficulty  will 
grow  less  at  every  following  step." 

"  I  tremble  for  thee,  thou  noble  enthusiast !  " — I  exclaim- 
ed, and  pressed  his  hand.  "  But  wilt  thou  not  tell  me  the 
end  of  thy  hazardous  enterprise  1 '  " 

"  Why  not  ?  But  something  of  that  kind  must  be  done 
in  the  open  air,  in  the  face  of  heaven,  under  the  trees,  in 


244 


OLIVIER   FLYELN  : 


the  sight  of  the  wide  ocean !  " — said  Olivier.  "  For,  my 
dear  Norbert,  in  a  room  between  walls,  many  things  ap- 
pear reasonable,  which  in  the  open  face  of  nature,  where  the 
soul,  as  it  were,  dissolves  in  the  large  pure  universe,  have 
the  aspect  of  a  phantom  or  a  dream.  On  the  contrary,  we 
find  without,  every  where  in  God's  creation,  where  perfec- 
tion and  truth  forever  have  their  home,  that  many  things 
are  correct  and  beautiful  which  between  the  walls  of  a 
family  chamber,  full  of  domestic  considerations,  or  in  a 
philosophic  lecture-room,  or  in  an  audience  saloon,  or  at  a 
dancing  festivity,  or  in  a  gorgeous  parlour  filled  with  gay 
company,  appear  in  the  light  of  exaggeration,  or  stupidity, 
or  enthusiasm,  or  madness — Therefore  come  into  the  open 
air !  " 

The  baroness  withdrew  to  her  children.  Olivier  con- 
ducted me  through  the  garden  to  a  hill,  where  we  lay  down 
in  the  shade  by  a  rock.  Above  us,  in  the  wide  expanse  of 
air,  waved  the  tender  branches  of  a  birch  tree,  and  beneath 
us  were  the  glittering  waves  of  ocean,  floating  in  the  limit- 
less space. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Olivier's  Narrative. 

Olivier  thus  commenced  his  narrative  : — "  Providence  fa- 
voured me  greatly  just  then  as  my  reason  was  about  estab- 
lishing her  prerogatives.  My  father  led  a  very  extravagant 
life  ;  and  his  wealth  decreased  every  day.  At  his  death 
he  left  me  a  very  scanty  inheritance.  But  I  had  the  pros- 
pect, after  my  uncle's  death,  of  becoming  a  very  respectable 
proprietor.  That  fact  was  known  to  the  world.  Moreover, 
I  was  betrothed  to  the  Baroness  von  Mooser,  daughter  of 
the  president  of  the  finances.    She  was  one  of  the  *  first 


A  FOOL  OF  THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


'245 


matches ' — as  affairs  of  that  kind  generally  are  called — in 
the  whole  country ;  for  she  was  very  handsome,  very  rich, 
and  niece  to  the  minister  of  the  war  department.  Our 
marriage  had  been  contrived  by  my  relatives  ;  and  the  old 
uncle  and  I,  in  accordance  with  the  custom  of  the  world, 
were  compelled  to  consent.  My  uncle's  bad  state  of  health, 
who  stood  to  me  in  the  place  of  a  father,  alone  delayed  the 
marriage.  Major  I  was  already.  At  the  next  advance- 
ment 1  was  to  be  commissioned  as  lieutenant-colonel;  and 
it  could  not  fail  that  in  a  few  years  I  should  be  commander 
of  my  own  regiment. 

"  Thus  matters  stood  at  that  period.  But  after  I  had  re- 
turned to  my  reason,  I  discovered  that  the  affair  was  very 
disagreeable.  I  began  to  feel  uneasy  that  I,  a  free  man, 
should  have  suffered  my  relatives  to  couple  my  existence 
with  a  girl  for  the  sake  of  money,  descent,  and  patronage, 
without  knowing  whether,  with  her  peculiarities,  views, 
faults  and  inclinations,  she  would  suit  me.  The  baroness 
was  certainly  handsome  and  virtuous  ;  but  not  one  jot  dif- 
ferent from  ladies  of  the  same  education.  She  was  kind 
by  nature,  but  being  spoiled  by  art,  she  was  vain  ;  lively ; 
frivolous ;  proud  of  her  connections,  rank  and  beauty  ;  witty 
at  the  cost  of  all  that  is  best  in  the  world;  and  in  every 
thing  more  French  than  German.  Whether  she  actually 
loved  me,  I  knew  not ;  but  I  felt  that  I  regarded  her 
no  more  than  I  did  any  other  refined  and  handsome  wo- 
man. 

"A  letter  summoned  me  to  the  presence  of  my  sickly  un- 
cle. I  obtained  a  furlough  from  the  general,  bade  farewell  to 
my  betrothed  and  her  parents,  and  started  on  my  journey. 
On  my  arrival,  my  uncle  already  was  buried.  An  old 
steward  gave  me  the  keys  to  the  coffers  and  the  testament. 
I  paid  a  few  small  legacies  to  the  household,  gained  the 
steward  to  keep  my  secret,  and  then  publicly  proclaimed 


246 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  : 


myself  to  be  poor,  because  the  property  of  my  uncle  was 
involved  in  debt. 

"  Thus  I  returned  to  the  garrison,  and  made  my  fable 
known.  I  did  it  only  to  probe  the  disposition  of  my  be- 
trothed, whether  with  me  she  had  the  courage  to  bid  adieu 
to  the  world,  and  to  become  like  myself.  In  order  to  give 
my  plan  the  greater  appearance  of  truth,  I  sold  all  I  could 
spare  to  pay  my  debts.  My  comrades  laughed  at  me,  par- 
ticularly when  I  said,  that  1"  would  at  least  remain  an  honest 
man!  Even  the  president  of  the  board  of  finances  and  his 
lady  advised  me  to  desist — '  I  ought  not  to  make  an  eclat, 
I  should  expose  myself  and  their  house,  I  should  render 
them  and  myself  ridiculous  ! ' 

"I  remained  firm  in  my  mind  : — That  honesty  surpasses 
splendour — that  poverty  is  no  disgrace — and  that  he  who 
can  abstain  from  luxury  'is  rich.'  Those  mean  expres- 
sions, as  they  were  called,  pleased  the  baroness  least  of  all! 
Her  parents  gave  me  to  understand,  that  their  child  had 
been  used  to  certain  '  aisances ' — that  they  themselves 
were  not  rich  enough,  at  so  late  a  period  of  their  lives,  to 
make  a  respectable  outfit  for  me  and  their  daughter.  In 
short,  a  few  days  afterwards,  they  avowed  that  they  trusted, 
without  any  more  difficulty,  that  my  own  sense  of  delicacy 
would  prompt  me  to  resign  my  claims  to  her  hand.  I  did 
not  hesitate  to  comply  with  their  wishes  ;  and  to  declare, 
since  not  a  mutual  choice  of  hearts  had  taken  place,  but 
merely  an  agreement  and  a  settling  of  money  accounts,  that 
I  deemed  our  separation  to  be  both  proper  and  just. 

"  But  my  pretended  poverty  brought  about  many  other 
good  results  of  a  different  kind.  My  old  friends  and  jocose 
brothers  began  to  be  less  desirous  of  my  company.  I  felt, 
however,  happy  that  a  few  thought  me  still  worthy  of  their 
respect.  The  most  of  them  became  cool  and  more  re- 
served.   The  interest  which  they  had  felt  in  me  vanished 


A  FOOL  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 


247 


with  my  money.  So  much  the  better,  I  thought ;  and  so 
much  the  truer  canst  thou  speak  and  act. 

"  But  I  met  with  just  as  little  success,  in  truth,  as  all 
others  have  done  before  me.    For  a  few  winters  previous 
I  had  been  in  the  habit  of  lecturing  to  the  corps  of  officers 
on  scientific  subjects.    I  continued  the  course,  but  spoke 
my  inmost  sentiments  more  freely,  and  without  restraint. 
Nevertheless,  when  I  advanced  propositions  like  the  fol- 
lowing— Every  war,  when  not  carried  on  against  foreign 
oppressors  in  behalf  of  the  independence  and  security  of 
our  native  land ;  but  for  the  purpose  of  gratifying  the  wishes 
of  sovereigns,  the  intrigues  of  ministers,  the  ambition  of 
courts,  or  for  the  purpose  of  vanquishing  or  of  meddling 
trith  the  affairs  of  other  nations,  or  of  exercising  revenge ; 
is  unjust.    Standing  armies  are  the  plague  of  every  country, 
the  ruin  of  the  public  finances,  the  jailors  of  despotism,  when 
the  sovereign  would  be  a  tyrant.    Soldiers  are  citizens.  All 
kinds  of  nobility  at  the  present  day  are  sheer  nonsense,  which 
among  the  ancient  savages  and  barbarians,  had  a  sort  of 
sense  in  it — that  I  hoped  yet  to  see  the  time  when  all  the 
kings  in  Europe  would  unite  by  agreement  to  disband 
their  enormous  standing  armies,  and  that  duellists  ought  to 
be  in  a  mad-house  or  a  jail.    When  I  advanced  these  and 
similar  axioms,  and  proved  their  correctness  by  arguments 
which  sound  human  sense  could  not  doubt,  I  was  forbidden 
to  lecture,  and  was  severely  reprimanded  by  the  general. 
I  was  contradicted,  and  finally  arrested. 

"  All  this  however  did  not  pain  me,  for  I  had  expected  it. 
I  did  my  duty  every  where  and  on  all  occasions.  After  I 
had  incurred  the  displeasure  of  the  general,  all  the  higher 
officers  began  also  to  withdraw  from  my  society.  I  was 
greatly  the  subject  of  jeers,  laughed  at,  and  ridiculed. 
Some  of  the  most  witty  thought  me  mad,  and  believed  it 
was  the  effect  of  the  shock  that  I  had  received  on  hearing 


248 


OLIVIER   FLYELN  : 


that  my  hope  of  a  large  inheritance  was  frustrated.  I 
was  soon  entirely  deserted.  Even  the  valet,  who  until 
that  time  had  served  me,  would  do  so  no  longer,  because 
my  table  was  too  simple  for  him  ;  because  I  gave  up  drink- 
ing cofiee,  and  seldom  took  wine  ;  and  because  I  wished 
him  to  wear  a  plain  suit,  nearly  such  a  one  in  which  thou 
seest  me  now,  instead  of  the  costly  livery  that  until  then 
he  had  worn. 

"In  return,  however,  at  that  time  I  received  a  letter  which 
recompensed  me  for  every  vexation  that  I  had  endured. 
A  few  years  before  the  time  of  which  I  am  speaking,  I 
found  a  poor  beggar  girl  weeping  before  the  barn  of  a  farm- 
house. In  the  barn,  upon  hay,  in  rags,  lay  the  mother  of 
the  girl  in  the  last  struggles  of  life.  The  dying  woman, 
still  very  young,  informed  me  that  she  was  a  native  of 
Southern  Germany,  and  the  daughter  of  poor  but  honest 
parents  ;  that  there  she  had  entered  upon  the  service  of  a 
wealthy  family,  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  seduction  of  their 
son,  and  then  with  a  small  sum  of  money  had  been  driven 
from  the  premises;  that  after  her  confinement  she  had 
sought  employment,  but  on  account  of  her  child,  not  being 
able  to  procure  a  situation  for  any  length  of  time,  she  had 
been  roaming  about  ever  since,  and  obtained  the  means  of 
subsistence  by  begging  alms,  and  that  now  she  could  do 
nothing  more  than  pray  for  her  daughter.  I  ran  to  the 
farm-house  to  buy  refreshments  for  her,  for  the  farmer  had 
reluctantly  allowed  her  the  resting-place  in  the  barn,  On 
my  return  she  was  dead,  and  the  little  girl  was  lying  across 
the  corpse  of  her  mother,  weeping  most  bitterly.  I  con- 
soled her  as  well  as  I  could  ;  paid  the  costs  of  the  burial, 
and  sent  the  orphan  girl,  who  did  not  even  know  the  family 
name  of  her  mother,  in  better  raiment,  to  a  female  boarding 
school  at  Rastrow.  Her  name  was  Amelia ;  I  gave  her  yet 
the  by-name  Barn,  after  the  place  in  which  I  found  her. 


A  FOOL  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  249 

"Then,  when  all  forsook  me,  I  received  from  the  board- 
ing-school at  Rastrow,  from  this  Amelia  Barn,  a  letter, 
which  as  yet  belongs  to  my  most  treasured  relics.  Thou 
shalt  read  it.  The  perusal  of  it  brought  the  tears  to  my 
eyes.  Its  contents  were  nearly  these  : — '  That  she  had 
heard  of  my  misfortune,  and  consequently  ought  no  longer 
be  to  her  father — she  was  in  the  habit  of  calling  me  by 
that  name — an  incumbrance.  She  would  now  endeavour 
to  procure  her  own  livelihood,  either  by  becoming  a  teach- 
er in  a  good  family,  or  by  needle -work,  dress-making,  or 
by  giving  instruction  on  the  piano.  I  need  not  give  my- 
self any  concern  about  her  ;  it  was  now  her  part  to  be 
concerned  about  me.'  Thou  must  read  the  letter  with 
those  beautiful  outbursts  of  gratitude.  It  is  a  reflection  of 
the  pious  and  pure  heart.  She  asked  permission  once 
more  to  see  her  benefactor,  whose  image  floated  but  darkly 
in  her  memory,  since  the  day  her  mother  died.  I  answered 
her  letter,  praised  her  sentiments,  but  assured  her  that  she 
had  no  cause  to  be  precipitate  ;  I  would  provide  for  her, 
until  she  had  found  a  suitable  place. 

"  Having  one  day  returned  from  the  parade,  I  heard  a  gen- 
tle tap  at  the  door  of  my  room.  A  strange  female  with 
a  lovely  face  entered.  Lilies  and  the  bloom  of  a  peach- 
tree  never  mixed  in  a  bouquet  colours  more  beautiful  than 
in  that  face  which  shone  beneath  a  fulness  of  rich  curls. 
Amid  blushes,  and  with  a  tremulous  voice,  she  asked  for 
me  ;  then  she  fell  down  melting  in  tears,  encircled  my 
knees,  and  when  in  astonishment  I  was  about  to  lift  her 
up,  she  covered  my  hand  with  kisses.  My  thoughts  were 
at  last  confirmed,  when  she  called  out — '  Father,  oh,  my 
father  !  oh,  my  guardian  ! '  I  conjured  her  to  rise.  She 
requested  me  to  let  her  remain  in  this  long  wished-for  po- 
sition, and  said — '  Oh,  I  am  so  happy,  that  my  heart  will 
break ! ' 

12 


250 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  '. 


It  was  long  before  she  recovered  and  arose.  I  then 
pressed  her  to  my  heart,  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  her  fore- 
head, and  told  her  to  look  upon  me  as  her  father,  and  to 
call  me  "  ihou."  She  obeyed.  This  parental  kiss,  how- 
ever, did  somewhat  confuse  my  senses.  She  had  taken 
lodgings  at  a  hotel.  I  let  her  remain  there  a  few  days, 
but  these  few  days  were  sufficient  to  undermine  my  peace 
of  mind.  When  Amelia  was  about  to  return  to  the  board- 
ing-school, I  advised  her  to  remain  in  the  house  of  a  citi- 
zen, and  take  in  needlework  for  money.  It  was  difficult 
for  me  to  separate  myself  from  her.  But  I  would  not  ac- 
quaint her  with  my  being  rich,  as  I  was  bound  to  probe 
her.  I  rented  some  rooms,  and  hired  a  girl  for  her ;  pro- 
vided her  with  a  piano,  harp,  books,  and  in  a  few  days  also 
with  a  commission  for  needlework  ;  but  all  at  my  own 
cost,  pretending  that  they  came  from  an  unknown  friend 
of  hers.  I  visited  her  but  once  a  week,  to  avoid  evil  inter- 
pretations. 

"  Every  visit  was  a  feast  to  me.  Thou  canst  imagine 
how  sweetly  it  penetrated  my  whole  soul,  when  I  thought 
to  myself,  there  is  one  being  living  beneath  the  moon  who 
is  indebted  to  thee  for  every  thing — a  being  who  belongs 
to  no  one  in  the  whole  world  except  thyself — and  who  ex- 
pects every  thing  from  thy  providence  ;  and  that  this  being, 
of  all  that  beauty,  piety,  and  nobleness  of  nature  ever 
had  been  shown  to  me,  is  the  choicest.  Amelia's  loveli- 
ness and  humble  station  soon  were  not  a  secret  in  the  city. 
She  drew  the  eyes  of  all  upon  her.  They  spoke  to  me 
about  her,  and  I  did  not  conceal  that  I  was  her  foster- 
father,  and  she  a  poor  natural  child.  In  a  very  short  time 
she  was  burdened  with  work.  I  had  forbidden  her  to  enter 
a  strange  house.  Ladies  visited  her  less  on  account  of 
the  needlework,  than  of  seeing  the  greatly-praised  beauty. 

"  One  day  I  visited  Amelia,  and  while  standing  before  the 


A  POOL  OP  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  251 

S 

door  of  her  room,  I  heard  a  great  altercation  between  her 
and  a  man.  I  recognised  the  voice  of  my  lieutenant- 
colonel.  On  opening  the  door,  I  saw  him  in  the  act  of  at- 
tempting to  kiss  her.  I  upbraided  him  for  his  indecent 
behaviour ;  and  when  he  retorted,  I  caught  him  by  the 
shoulders,  and  threw  him  out  of  the  room  down  the  stairs. 
He  considered  his  honour  violated,  and  consequently  chal- 
lenged me.  I  refused  to  meddle  with  such  abominable 
foolery.  The  corps  of  officers  threatened  to  serve  no 
longer  at  my  side  for  being  a  coward.  I  am  not  a  coward, 
and  went  unarmed  to  the  appointed  place  of  combat,  and 
told  the  fool  if  he  were  willing  to  become  an  assassin  I 
would  give  him  permission.  Then  he  and  the  officers  be- 
gan to  abuse  me  with  their  vulgarisms.  According  to 
their  barbaric  notions,  they  thought  my  honour  would  re- 
ceive a  mortal  wound,  were  they  to  disgrace  themselves 
by  their  indecencies.  I  asked  them  in  return,  whether 
vulgar  boys  could  become  respectable  by  throwing  mud  on 
a  worthy  man  in  the  open  streets  ;  or  if,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  man  on  that  account  would  become  a  vulgar  boy  ? 

"  On  the  following  morning  at  the  parade,  the  general  un- 
expectedly handed  me,  with  an  address  of  set  phrases,  a 
badge  of  distinction  awarded  by  the  court.  This  was  an 
after-fruit  of  my  former  connection  with  the  Baroness 
Mooser,  and  the  work  of  her  uncle,  the  minister  of  the  war 
department.  In  accordance  with  my  ideas  of  merit,  I 
could  not  accept  of  the  piece  of  ribbon  ;  and  if  I  had  ac- 
tually done  the  state  some  service,  I  should  have  been 
ashamed  to  boast  of  it  by  carrying  the  reward  of  it  every 
day  upon  my  breast.  My  stern  refusal  to  accept  the  rag 
with  the  little  star  attached  to  it,  was  unheard  of  in 
the  annals  of  the  monarchy.  My  expression — Duty  and 
virtue  could  not  be  rewarded,  and  only  be  recognised ;  but 
whether  recognised  or  not,  the  brave  man  would  still  do 


252 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  : 


his  duty,  and  least  of  all  would  he  suffer  himself  to  be 
compelled  to  boast  of  his  services  before  other  people  : — 
that  expression  passed  for  Jacobinism  and  nonsense  !  The 
general  became  furious.  The  officers  also  came  forward 
on  account  of  their — as  they  thought — violated  honour.  I 
was  arrested,  and  within  a  few  weeks  afterwards,  received 
my  discharge. 

"  I  was  delighted — as  then  I  could  dress  as  I  wished ; 
in  a  civic  attire,  not  in  the  prevailing  Italian  fashion,  but 
modestly,  comfortably,  and  more  in  accordance  with  na- 
ture, as  thou  now  seest  us  all  in  Flyeln.  The  people 
opened  their  eyes  and  believed  me  mad  ;  and  were  con- 
firmed in  their  opinion  when  they  heard  that  I  was  any- 
thing than  poor,  but  one  of  the  most  wealthy  men  in  the 
country.  Amelia  only  knew,  why  I  acted  so.  I  had  ac- 
quainted her  with  my  views,  in  regard  to  the  present 
world,  and  with  my  principles.  She  herself,  a  child  of  na- 
ture, simple  yet  full  of  spirit,  approved  of  my  views,  and  lived 
entirely  according  to  them.  I  of  course  had  no  reason  to 
be  proud  of  Amelia's  sentiments,  as  they  were  but  my  own. 
She  only  thought  and  felt  as  I  did  ;  her  whole  being  was 
conformed  to  mine.  Her  reverential,  filial  love,  without 
her  knowing  it,  had  passed  over  into  the  purest,  most  bash- 
ful and  ardent  maidenly  affection  ;  and  perhaps  I  felt  too 
young  to  play  the  part  of  a  father ! 

"  One  day  I  said  to  her,  I  intend  returning  to  my 
estates.  She  requested  permission  to  let  her  follow  me  ; 
that  she  should  be  happy,  if  I  would  consent  to  her  being 
my  servant.  With  hesitation  I  told  her,  that  I  thought  of 
getting  married.  She  sunk  her  head,  clasped  her  hands 
and  said, — '  So  much  the  better,  thy  wife  will  not  find  a 
truer  servant,  than  I  shall  be  to  her.' — '  But ' — I  answered 
— '  my  future  wife  thinks  already  less  favourably  of  thee, 
than  thou  deservest.' 


A  FOOL  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  253 

"  *  What  fault  have  I  already  committed  towards  her  ? ' — 
she  answered,  lifting  up  her  face,  with  all  the  pride  of 
conscious  innocence, — '  Show  me  thy  bride,  and  I  will  en- 
deavour to  obtain  her  favour  and  respect.'  I  conducted 
Amelia  before  the  large  mirror  in  the  room,  pointed  to  it 
and  said  with  a  faltering  voice — '  Thou  seest  her  there.' — 
At  these  words  she  made  a  movement  of  terror  ;  her  colour 
faded  away  from  her  face  ;  she  gazed  on  me  with  her  large 
blue  eyes,  in  which  a  question  died  ;  and  then  said  with  a 
tremulous  voice, — '  I  am  not  well !  ' — and  fell  fainting  to 
the  floor.  I  called  the  servant ;  for  terror  had  paralyzed  me. 

When  Amelia  recovered  from  her  swoon,  and  her  cheeks 
received  again  their  beauteous  red,  on  opening  her  eyes, 
she  first  looked  smilingly  at  me  ;  and  then  manifested 
astonishment  about  my  own  and  the  busy  servant's  sorrow. 
Only  by  degrees  her  memory  returned.  She  thought  she 
had  slept.  I  scarcely  ventured  to  speak  of  what  had  oc- 
curred. When  we  were  again  alone,  I  said — '  Amelia, 
why  wert  thou  frightened  before  the  mirror  1  Why  darest 
thou  not  be  my  bride  ?  Speak  candidly,  I  am  prepared  for 
anything.' — She  blushed,  and  remained  silent  with  her 
eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. — 4  Why  darest  thou  not  1 ' — I 
asked  once  more.  She  looked  up  to  heaven  and  exclaimed 
— '  Dare  ?  What  else  dare  I,  except  what  thou  wilt  ? 
Could  I  be  happy  without  thee  ?  Whether  thy  servant  or 
thy  bride,  it  is  all  one,  since  my  heart  beats  for  thee  alone.' 

"  Whilst  I  was  breathing  the  air  of  delight,  the  town  was 
beside  itself  with  astonishment.  My  relations  both  by  my 
father's  and  mother's  side  were  in  fear  and  desperation, 
when  I  announced  my  approaching  marriage  with  Amelia. 
A  baron  of  one  of  the  oldest  noble  families,  whose  ances- 
tors have  been  invested  with  the  highest  offices  of  their 
kings  !  A  baron  capable  of  entering  the  lists  for  a  tour- 
nament, a  blood  relation  of  the  first  families  in  the  country, 


254 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  : 


to  form  the  most  enormous  mis -alliance,  not  even  with  the 
daughter  of  a  parvenu  nobleman,  not  even  with  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  distinguished  citizen,  n6*t  even  with  the  honest 
daughter  of  a  mechanic,  but  with  a  beggar  girl,  and  that 
beggar  girl  a  natural  child  ! — I  received  letters  from  all  my 
relatives,  threatening  publicly  to  discard  me  ;  to  cast  me 
out  from  all  future  inheritance  ;  and  to  find  means  by  ap- 
plying to  the  highest  authorities  to  compel  me  to  their  will! 
All  came  too  late,  for  in  two  weeks  after,  the  minister 
joined  our  hands  in  marriage. 

"  Why  should  I  speak  of  all  the  foolish  acts,  which  people 
burdened  with  prejudice  committed,  when  I  commenced 
living  like  an  honest,  natural  man,  rigidly  in  accordance 
with  truth,  abolishing  all  buffoonries,  all  the  frivolity 
of  a  dancing  master,  all  foreignisms,  all  deceptive  conven- 
tional rules,  without  losing,  however,  sight  of  a  dignified 
and  becoming  behaviour.  My  simple  •  thou,'  with  which 
I  addressed  all  persons,  and  with  which  I  requested  all 
persons  to  address  me,  immediately  frightened  every  body 
from  me,  as  though  I  was  covered  with  ulcers.  My  beard 
was  ridiculed.  When  I  returned  a  greeting  in  the  street 
in  a  friendly  manner,  without  pulling  off  my  hat  like  a  slave, 
I  was  called  a  rude  fellow.  I  did  not  allow  myself  to  be  led 
astray.  Once  the  path  had  to  be  cleared,  and  I  would  see 
whether  in  the  nineteenth  century  a  person  could  be  allowed 
to  live  in  a  European  city,  by  abolishing  all  buffoonries, 
all  perverted  notions  of  honour,  all  morality,  all  right,  and 
all  decorum.  Far  from  hurting  the  feelings  of  any  one  by 
improper  conduct,  or  from  reproaching  any  person  for  his 
prejudice,  false  opinions,  or  moral  distortion,  I  became  more 
polite  to  all.  Man,  from  whom  in  outward  appearance  I 
was  now  as  different  as  I  had  already  been  inwardly,  I 
endeavoured  to  reconcile  to  myself  by  kindness  and  bene- 
volence,      was  in  vain ! 


A  FOOL  OF  THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  255 

"  I  retired  to  my  estates  here  in  Flyeln.  It  gave  me  plea- 
sure to  make  myself  acquainted  and  familiar  with  my  pea- 
sants. They  were  then  half  wild,  and  vassals.  They 
crawled  like  slaves  before  their  lord.  Not  one  of  them  could 
either  read  or  write.  They  were  lazy  and  immoral.  Idleness, 
drunkenness  and  fighting  seemed  to  be  their  heaven. 
Superstition  was  their  religion.  Idolatrous  hypocrisy  was 
their  religious  practice.  Cheating  and  lying  were  their 
wisdom  !  I  resolved  to  make  men  of  those  brutes,  by 
building  a  large  school-house.  Amelia  and  myself  visited 
all  the  huts,  which  were  filthy  stables.  Under  pain  of  the 
severest  punishment,  I  commanded  the  strictest  cleanliness. 
He  who  did  not  obey  was  put  in  prison.  On  the  other 
hand,  to  encourage  those  who  were  obedient,  I  rewarded 
them  with  tables,  looking  glasses,  chairs,  and  other  house- 
hold furniture.  In  a  short  time  every  thing  was  well 
arranged  and  tidy  in  these  houses.  I  prohibited  card  play- 
ing, spirituous  liquors,  scuffling,  cursing,  and  swearing. 
Whosoever  committed  a  fault,  was  severely  punished. 
Whosoever  obeyed  and  did  not  give  any  cause  for  reproof, 
I  released  from  his  villainage.  To  the  old  minister  I  gave 
a  pension,  and  selected  in  his  stead  a  young  man,  well-in- 
formed, an  excellent  clergyman,  who  entered  with  heart 
and  soul  into  my  purpose.  A  young  man  well  skilled  in 
giving  various  instructions,  and  educated  by  Pestalozzi  in 
Switzerland,  I  appointed  teacher,  and  gave  him  a  good 
salary.  With  these  two  assistants  I  accomplished  the 
work  of  reformation.  I  myself  twice  in  the  week  in- 
structed the  grown  young  men  and  the  young  married  men. 
Amelia  taught  the  grown  young  girls  ;  the  minister's  wife 
directed  the  married  women.  I  had  all  the  children  newly 
clothed,  just  as  thou  seest  them  now.  At  our  expense, 
Amelia  changed  the  awkward  costume  of  the  girls. 

"  The  school  and  the  prison  had  their  effects ;  but  self- 


256 


OLIVIER  flteln: 


interest  had  still  more.  In  order  to  ingratiate  themselves 
in  my  favour,  the  young  men  began  to  let  their  beards  grow. 
I  prohibited  the  vassals  from  doing  so  ;  only  the  freemen 
■\verc  allowed  to  wear  beards.  The  slaves  I  compelled  to 
go  with  their  chins  shaved.  The  gates  of  liberty  were 
thrown  open  to  them.  Whosoever  according  to  my  instruc- 
tions cultivated  his  land  best,  received  it  at  the  end  of  the 
year  for  a  small,  but  purchasable  ground  rent,  as  his  own 
property,  and  moreover  was  freed  from  villainage.  He 
who  in  the  second  year  was  most  saving,  most  industrious, 
and  most  sensible,  received  his  liberty ;  his  house  as  his 
own,  an  advance  of  money,  a  dress  of  honour,  fashioned 
like  my  costume,  and  permission  to  let  his  beard  grow.  At 
the  end  of  the  first  year,  I  was  obliged  to  declare  several 
excellent  families  free.  Previous  to  my  arrival  they  were 
of  the  better  class.  This  awakened  envy  in  many,  but 
emulation  in  all ;  the  more  so,  because  I  allowed  the  free 
to  sit  on  court  days  at  my  side,  and  to  judge  with  me  the 
defaulters.  Those  who  were  my  subordinate  judges  were 
elected  by  the  freemen  themselves,  out  of  their  own  body. 

"  While  I  was  here,  thus  caring  very  little  about  the  rest 
of  the  world,  they  troubled  themselves  the  more  about  me. 
My  relations  contrived  that  the  ministry  should  send  a 
commission  extraordinary,  with  orders  to  examine  the  con- 
dition of  my  health  and  property.  It  had  been  reported 
that  I  was  mad,  and  squandered  my  property  in  the  most 
nonsensical  manner.  The  gentlemen  of  the  commission 
lived  here  a  few  months  at  their  ease.  I  know  not  what 
report  they  made,  but  probably,  on  account  of  my  forgetting 
to  drop  a  few  pieces  of  gold  into  their  hands,  it  must  have 
been  unfavourable.  For  without  considering  my  difficulties 
and  the  preservation  of  my  privileges,  I  was  treated  like  a 
simpleton,  and  banished  to  my  estates.  An  administrator 
over  my  property  also  was  sent  me,  who  was  commissioned 


A   FOOL  OF  THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  257 

to  be  a  spy  upon  my  actions,  and  keep  strangers  from  visit- 
ing me.  The  administrator  was  an  honest  and  not  unen- 
lightened man,  and  consequently  we  soon  understood  each 
other,  and  became  friends.  After  he  had  looked  over  my 
accounts,  the  good  man  was  astonished  at  the  strictness  of 
my  economy ;  and  perceived,  that  by  it,  and  by  gradually 
abolishing  the  vassalage  and  villainage,  I  gained  more 
than  I  lost.  Ennui  often  caused  him  to  assist  me  in  my 
endeavours  to  humanize  my  slaves.  He  had  withal  some 
very  good  ideas  ;  for  example  : — Those  who  had  been  made 
free  for  five  years  should  render  an  account  of  their  ex- 
penses and  income  before  our  court,  to  make  sure  that  they 
did  not  become  worse,  or  secretly  negligent.  The  good 
man  was  finally  enraptured  with  our  arrangements  in 
Flyeln  ;  for  he  perceived,  that  of  all  the  well-considered 
steps  we  took,  scarcely  ever  one  was  taken  in  vain.  Dur- 
ing the  second  year  of  my  stay  here,  the  husbandmen  in 
our  villages  surpassed  all  others  in  the  surrounding  country 
in  their  household  arrangements,  knowledge  and  honesty. 
In  other  places  they  were  called  Moravians  ;  and  in  the 
neighbouring  villages,  they  believe  to  this  day,  that  the 
people  of  Flyeln  have  adopted  another  religion. 

"  The  administrator  and  guardian  found  my  views  respect- 
ing the  world,  in  their  principal  features,  perfectly  correct. 
He  even  wished  for  the  return  of  general  simplicity,  and 
greater  truth  in  morals,  behaviour,  and  the  mode  of  living. 
But  the  beard  did  not  please  him.  His  stiff  queue  at  the 
back  of  his  neck,  and  his  powdered  hair,  he  defended  most 
vigorously.  He  also  took  exception  to  the  word  "  thou" 
and  when  speaking  to  me  or  Amelia,  he  could  not,  despite 
of  all  his  exertions,  bring  it  over  his  lips.  Meanwhile,  his 
report  of  me,  after  the  first  year  of  his  administration,  and 
the  satisfactory  explanations  he  had  given  to  the  govern- 
ment, in  regard  to  the  entire  management  of  my  property, 
12* 


258 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  i 


had  the  happy  result  to  re-install  me  to  self-administra- 
tion, however,  with  the  proviso  of  rendering  an  annual  ac- 
count of  it.  That  was  the  work  of  my  relatives!  For 
they  would  not  be  dissuaded  from  the  belief,  that  I  had  lost 
a  considerable  portion  of  sound  intellect,  although  my 
guardian  had  presented  me  merely  as  a  great  eccentric ! 
That  I  might  not  by  delirious  talk  and  passion  for  innova- 
tion, by  speaking  freely  and  openly  of  what  nature  and 
reason  approve,  give  offence  ;  I  was  prohibited,  without 
having  particular  official  permission,  from  going  beyond 
the  boundaries  of  my  estates  ;  that  is,  I  am  enjoined  not  to 
visit  the  great  European  lunatic  asylum,  but  merely 
become  acquainted  with  it  by  means  of  the  public  journals. 
By  that  I  could  but  be  a  gainer ! 

"  Nearly  five  years  have  elapsed  since  I  have  lived  here 
in  my  happy  solitude.  Go  where  thou  wilt,  and  look  at  my 
fields,  at  the  fields  of  our  peasants,  and  at  our  forests, 
herds  and  dwellings  !  Thou  wilt  see  a  blooming  prosperity, 
formerly  unknown  here.  All  my  vassals  are  free.  Only 
one  drunkard,  and  another  lazy  rude  fellow,  seemed  incor- 
rigible. The  drunkard  died.  Neither  hope  nor  punish- 
ment could  convert  the  other.  But  when  all  men  in  Flyeln 
wore  beards,  and  he  and  the  minister  were  the  only  per- 
sons left  who  walked  about  with  a  smooth  chin,  it  produced 
a  wonderful  effect  on  the  fellow.  For  the  minister  at  last 
also  ventured  to  let  his  beard  grow ;  and  so  the  vassal  re- 
mained the  only  smooth  face  amongst  us.  That  he  could 
not  brook.  He  changed  for  the  better,  and  among  honest 
people  is  now  an  honest  man  ! 

"  His  beard  cost  the  good  minister  at  the  consistory  much 
chagrin.  It  was  in  vain  he  proved  that  the  beard  was  nei- 
ther for  nor  against  the  true  faith.  It  was  to  no  purpose 
when  he  appealed  to  the  holy  men  of  the  old  and  new 
covenant.  It  had  no  effect  when  he  set  forth,  that  by  mak- 


A  FOOL  OP  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  250 

ing  himself  equal  to  his  congregation  in  every  thing,  he 
could  effect  most,  and  that  by  those  means  he  had  actually 
changed  the  course  of  life  of  a  person  until  then  deemed 
incorrigible.  His  beard  gave  rise  to  many  consistorial 
transactions.  Only  after  he  had  brought  forth  medical  men 
to  prove,  that  previous  to  his  long  beard  he  had  suffered 
greatly  from  the  tooth-ache,  and  that  now  he  was  relieved 
from  the  calamity,  he  finally  received  permission  to  wear  it 
on  account  of  his  health. 

"  Now  with  my  freemen,  I  execute  not  only  the  business 
of  the  village  court,  but  have  also  given  them  the  privilege 
to  elect  their  own  administrators.  Their  sense  of  honour 
has  been  awakened  ;  they  feel  their  dignity.  Worthy 
freemen  with  their  wives,  from  time  to  time,  dine  with  me 
at  my  table.  I  am  their  equal.  Their  dress  being  uniform 
with  mine,  produces  a  certain  familiarity  without  weaken- 
ing respect.  The  children  have  to  rise  and  uncover  their 
heads  when  they  are  met  by  old  persons,  but  nobody  un- 
covers his  head  before  his  equal.  Every  malicious  lie 
which  is  proved,  is  considered  with  us"  as  great  a  crime  as 
theft.  As  now  the  people  are  their  own  judges,  they  are 
more  severe  than  I  formerly  was.  I  am  often  compelled 
to  mitigate  their  judgments.  Our  schools  are  excellent. 
The  more  advanced  boys  are  taught  history,  geography, 
and  something  of  architecture.  In  our  church  we  are  de- 
vout, and  have  good  vocal  music,  the  hymns  being  arranged 
for  four  voices. 

"  But,  my  dear  Norbert,  thou  shalt  remain  some  days  with 
us,  and  thou  mayest  judge  for  thyself.  Rather,  if  thou 
canst  make  it  convenient,  stay  a  few  weeks.'' 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  J 


CHAPTER  V. 

CONVERSATION   ON   THE   HEIGHTS    OF  FlYELN, 

I  will  not  conceal,  that  all  I  had  heard  and  seen  in  FJyeln, 
made  a  great  impression  upon  me.  I  admired  Olivier's 
firmness  of  character,  his  benevolent  creative  mind  ;  but  I 
pitied  his  fate  for  being  misjudged  in  so  high  a  degree. 

The  persuasive  powers  of  my  friend,  the  enchanting  soli- 
citations of  the  baroness,  were  not  requisite  to  induce  me 
to  prolong  my  stay  in  that  magnificent  oasis.  Yes — I  am 
bound  to  call  Flyeln  an  oasis,  a  verdant  island  in  the  desert 
of  the  surrounding  country.  For  so  soon  as  a  person  puts 
foot  on  that  ground,  after  having  passed  through  the  sandy 
and  marshy  land  of  the  adjacent  country,  the  extensive  wild 
forest  of  firs,  the  poor,  filthy,  disorderly  villages,  full  of  ho- 
vels and  neglected  people  ;  the  soil  becomes  suddenly  more 
luxurious,  and  man  suddenly  more  human  !  There  also  had 
been  hovels,  but  now  they  are  clean  dwellings,  which  I, 
with  the  baroness,  delighted  to  visit.  There  also  had  been 
swamps,  but  they  could  only  be  recognised  by  the  long 
trenches  and  subterraneous  water  outlets,  built  of  stone, 
and  covered  with  earth.  There  also  had  been  slaves,  who 
had  been  used  to  tremble  before  their  lord,  and  still  more 
before  their  officers,  and  to  cheat  them  when  their  backs 
were  turned ;  but  now  they  maintained  the  upright,  fear- 
less position  of  freemen,  and  saw  in  the  baron  their  equal ; 
and  with  what  a  childish  veneration  and  love,  did  they  now 
surround  him  and  his  family  !  This  transformation  in  the 
course  of  five  years  would  seem  a  wonder,  did  we  not  know 
how  prudently  and  firmly  Olivier  went  to  work ;  how  he 
passed  by  slow  degrees  from  his  station  of  feudal  lord  to 
that  of  a  teacher,  and  then  to  that  of  a  father ;  how  by- 
placing  the  fear  of  punishment  behind  them  as  a  driver,  he 


A  FOOL  OF  THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURA. 


261 


allured  his  vassals  onward  by  their  own  crude  self-interest ; 
how  he  never  counted  on  their  gratitude,  never  on  their 
sense,  or  moral  and  religious  feelings,  but  at  first  more 
drilled  than  instructed  them ;  and  then  how,  after  having 
for  several  years  habituated  them  to  doing  good,  he  relied 
upon  the  strength  of  habit,  and  upon  the  children  who 
were  to  succeed  them.  Therefore,  he  and  the  baroness, 
the  minister,  and  the  schoolmaster,  took  it  upon  themselves 
to  instruct  the  whole  of  them,  which  was  also  the  reason 
why  the  inferior  judges  of  the  court  and  the  administrators 
of  the  congregations,  were  nearly  all  young  men  of  about 
thirty  years  of  age. 

When  Olivier  showed  me  his  account  books,  and  proved 
to  me  inconte stably,  that  far  from  being  a  loser  by  the  pre- 
sent arrangement,  he  was,  on  the  contrary,  a  great 
gainer,  and  that  his  had  far  exceeded  the  income  of  his  de- 
ceased uncle,  or  that  of  any  of  his  ancestors,  he  said  to  me 
with  a  smile — "  Now  thou  canst  see,  where  madness  is  at 
home,  whether  here  in  Flyeln,  or  at  the  capital  of  the 
king.  While  I  gain  I  am  treated  like  a  spendthrift,  and 
am  every  year  compelled  to  submit  to  people,  who  are  sent 
to  take  a  survey  of  my  accounts,  and  to  look  into  my  secret 
household  aflairs." 

"  Why  dost  thou  not  complain  of  it  I  It  is  unjust — it  is 
tyrannical  " — I  replied. 

"  My  complaints  would  be  vain  " — added  Flyeln. — "  Not 
the  court,  but  a  commandment  of  the  cabinet,  proceeding 
from  the  ministry,  has  condemned  me  to  this  condition. 
This  thing  cannot  be  so  easily  undone  ;  for  the  ministry  is 
not  inclined  to  revoke  their  decree,  since  that  would  be 
condemning  themselves  for  being  unjust.  The  committee 
of  examination,  who  come  here  every  year,  will  not  coun- 
sel such  a  step,  since  by  doing  so  they  would  lose  the  en- 
joyment of  a  pleasure  journey,  and  the  gains  of  a  daily 


262 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  : 


allowance  paid  with  my  money.  Their  having  banished  me 
to  the  estate  of  my  ancestors,  like  a  captive,  is  of  no  con- 
sideration at  all  with  them.  Now,  Norbert,  candidly,  what 
dost  thou  think  of  all  this  ?  " 

"  I  must  acknowledge  " — I  answered — "  that  I  came  with 
a  prejudiced  and  sad  mind ;  but  I  shall  leave  here,  bearing 
with  me  the  most  pleasant  recollections.  Every  where 
thou  art  spoken  of  as  being  a  madman !  Thou  art  not  a 
madman  ;  but  I  coincide  with  thy  former  administrator — 
thou  art  a  noble  and  great  eccentric !  " 

"  Eccentric  !  "  exclaimed  Flyeln.  "  Well,  yes,  it  is  the 
proper  name  for  those  who  separate  themselves  from  the 
common  course  of  life  and  the  disorders  of  the  age.  Di- 
ogenes of  Sinope  was  also  considered  a  fool ;  and  Cato,  the 
Roman  censor,  a  pedant.  In  the  streets  of  Madrid,  Colum- 
bus was  looked  upon  as  a  madman.  Olavides  was  given 
over  to  the  Inquisition.  Rousseau  was  expelled  from  his 
asylum  by  the  people  of  Berne  ;  and  by  many  of  his  coun- 
trymen, Pestalozzi  was  counted  a  demi-maniac,  because  he 
rather  associated  with  beggars  and  ragged  children  than 
with  powdered  wigs  !  Ye  call  me  an  eccentric,  me,  who 
am  merely  making  use  of  the  privilege  I  received  from  my 
Creator,  to  think,  to  speak,  and  to  act  rationally,  and  in  ac- 
cordance with  nature,  and  nothing  more — is  that  not  an  un- 
couth reproach  against  yourselves  ?  " 

"No,  Olivier,  no  reproach" — I  said — "either  against 
the  world,  or  against  thyself.  Nobody  prevents  thee  from 
thinking  and  acting  rationally  and  naturally  ;  but  spare  also 
the  privileges  of  others,  to  think,  speak,  and  act  in  accord- 
ance with  their  present  notions,  habits,  and  even  preju- 
dices, until  they  or  their  children  have  become  wiser. 
Every  one  cannot  be  a  philosopher." 

"  Have  I  not  spared  them  ?  have  I  attacked  them  ? "  ask- 
ed the  baron. 


A  FOOL  OF  THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  263 

"Most  certainly,  my  friend" — I  answered — "if  thou 
wilt  permit  me  to  say  so.  By  placing  thy  manners  in 
too  great  an  opposition  to  the  generally-adopted  manners, 
thou  didst  break  peace  with  those  among  whom  thou  wast 
living  ;  and  didst  but  half  the  good  thou  mightst  have  done, 
yea,  not  even  the  half.  Christ  adopted  the  manners  of  Ju- 
dea,  lowered  himself  even  to  some  of  the  Jewish  prejudices, 
in  order  to  work  more  effectually.  What  boots  at  last  a 
ridiculous  custom  ?  whether  we  wear  a  stiff  queue,  or  short 
hair?  whether  we  let  our  beards  grow,  or  shave  them  off? 
Thou  knowest  the  signification  of  the  word  1  Sie,'  they,  in 
the  German,  and  the  4  Vous,'  you,  in  the  French  language. 
Well,  I  admit  that  it  is  nonsensical  to  address  a  single  per- 
son in  the  plural  number.  But  of  what  injury  can  that 
practice  be  in  the  end  ?  Did  not  the  Grecians  and  Romans 
speak  of  themselves  in  the  plural  number?  Thou  knowest 
the  signification  of  Sie,  they,  and  Du,  thou,  in  the  German 
language.  Wast  not  thou  the  assaulting  party,  when  thou 
wert  above  paying  attention  to  those  customary  innocent 
practices,  and  didst  force,  without  regard  to  any  person,  and 
contrary  to  the  hitherto  prevailing  notions  of  decorum  and 
respect,  thy  ' Thou'  upon  everybody?  W7hosoever  places 
himself  in  opposition  to  the  world,  to  him  will  the  world  be 
opposed.    Couldst  thou  be  surprised  at  that  ? " 

"I  am  by  no  means  surprised,  because  I  expected  it" — 
said  Olivier.  "  Do  not  quote  Jesus  Christ  as  example  for 
the  manner  of  those  who,  with  a  pious  mien,  conceal  all 
their  indolence  and  roguery  under  the  cloak  of  perverted 
passages  from  the  Bible.  The  Divine  Messenger  had  to 
settle  with  his  contemporaries  a  more  important  account 
than  I  have.  He  therefore  was  silent  about  the  lesser  fol- 
lies, but  my  business  is  with  these  alone  ;  and  I  will  at 
least  not  suffer  that  I  should  be  compelled  to  praise  those 
barbarisms,  or  excuse  them,  or  even  to  play  a  part  in  them 


264 


OLIVIER   FLYELN  : 


myself.  Man  living  upon  this  earth  among  mankind  may, 
perhaps,  yet  be  allowed  the  simple  privilege  of  making 
use  of  his  own  straight-forward  common  sense." 

"  It  seems  to  me,  my  friend  " — I  answered — "  that  such 
a  privilege  has  never  been  denied  thee  ;  but  most  certain- 
ly the  privilege  of  occasioning  dangerous  confusions  by  im- 
prudently publishing  thy  convictions,  especially  when  they 
were  at  war  with  the  present  subsisting  order.  Here  in  Fly- 
eln  thou  hast  thyself  played  the  part  of  a  wise  master  with  thy 
vassals  ;  hast  led  them  on  to  liberty  as  they  were  prepared 
for  it — by  degrees  and  not  precipitately.  Thou  wast  well 
aware  it  would  be  dangereus  to  place  a  knife  in  the  un- 
practised hand  of  a  child,  which  in  skilful  hands  becomes 
a  most  useful  instrument.  What  wouldst  thou  have  said  if 
one  of  thine  own  vassals  had  suddenly  arisen,  and  spoken 
the  language  of  truth  before  his  comrades  ?  If  he  had 
spoken  to  them  of  the  eternal  inherent  privileges  of  the  hu- 
man race,  of  barbarism,  and  the  dissoluteness  of  the  feudal 
system,  and  of  the  natural  equality  of  man  ?  Would  not 
such  a  reformer  have  frustrated  all  thy  noble  plans  ? " 

"  Most  certainly,  Norbert" — responded  the  baron — "  but 
I  hope  this  example  is  not  applicable  to  me  and  my  actions. 
I  have  never  spoken  against  the  standing  regulations,  even 
when  they  were  bad  ;  but  I  have  rendered  unto  Caesar  the 
things  that  were  Caesar's,  and  to  God,  the  things  that  are 
God's.  I  only  spoke  against  the  existing  misusages  and 
prejudices  which  are  not  even  made  sacred  by  civil  or  state 
contracts.  Against  your  corrupted  German  manners  and 
language  ;  against  your  masquerades  and  hypocritical  com- 
pliments ;  against  your  pernicious  luxury  ;  against  your  ef- 
feminate and  stiff  disfiguration,  by  introducing  French  fash- 
ions ;  against  your  notions  of  honour  and  shame,  of  merit 
and  reward — I  have  spoken,  and  only  in  defence  of  my  own 
person  ;  when  ye  Europeans  would  compel  me  to  condemn 


A   FOOL   OF  THE   NINETEENTH   CENTURY.  265 


my  return  to  reason,  and  would  coerce  me  to  rebel  against 
nature  merely  to  please  your  pervcrseness." 

"  ]3ut,  friend  Olivier  " — I  said — "  thy  opinions  about 
standing  armies,  about  nobility  of  birth,  about  the  suppress- 
ed privileges  of  nations,  about" — 

"O  popoi,  friend  Norbert !  these  principles" — said  Fly- 
eln — "  generally  are  recognised  as  dead  truths.  In  theses 
and  theories  they  are  called  correct,  in  practice  errone- 
ous, and  that  for  weighty  reasons.  I  have  nothing  against, 
it.  I  myself,  were  I  a  prince  or  minister,  should  take  care 
to  organize  Plato's  Republic,  before  I  had  a  philosophic 
people  But  I  have  spoken  of  those  principles  among 
friends,  and  among  my  equals,  and  not  preached  them  to 
the  mob  to  create  a  revolution.  I  did  what  millions  are 
doing  to-day  by  writing  and  speaking.  Ye  would  have  to 
cut  the  heads  off  of  half  the  population  of  Europe  would  you 
prevent  people  from  thinking  or  speaking  of  such  things. 
Even  because  they  are  thought  or  spoken  by  one-half  of 
the  world,  they  are  also  infused  into  the  minds  of  the  other 
half ;  and  when  the  majority  is  once  convinced  of  what  is 
better,  then,  without  revolutions  and  blood-baths,  everything 
will  come  to  pass  of  its  own  accord  by  the  natural  course 
of  a  meliorated  legislation.  In  good  sooth,  Norbert !  they 
did  not  think  me  mad  on  that  account ;  they  did  not  for  that 
reason  banish  me  from  the  rest  of  the  world.  Nobody 
would  have  made  any  objections  had  I,  baron  as  I  was,  de- 
claimed against  the  injustice,  barbarism,  foliy,  and  mis- 
chiefs connected  with  the  institution  of  the  privileged  he- 
reditary nobility  ;  nobody  would  have  said  anything  upon 
that  subject  had  I,  with  my  declamations,  married  a  count- 
ess or  a  baroness.  Many  are  doing  this.  But  because  I 
acted  independently,  although  nobody  received  an  injury  by 
it ;  because  I  preferred  the  love  of  a  handsome,  virtuous 
beggar-girl,  to  the  ancestral  prejudices  of  my  relatives ; 


266 


OLIVIER  FLYELN  : 


because  I  married  a  child  whom  I,  a  baron,  had  taken  off 
the  high  road — that,  Norbert,  was  my  crime  !  Norbert, 
look  once  more  at  Amelia — then  step  before  my  parchment 
pedigree — and  then  condemn  me  !  " 

"  With  such  documents  for  your  cause  " — I  remarked — 
"my  dear  Olivier,  thou  art  a  terrible  advocate.  But  I 
think  nobility  would  in  the  end  have  forgiven  thy  crime 
against  its  ranks,  and  considered  thee  an  exception  to  the 
general  rule.  Thou  knowest  that  at  the  present  day  peo- 
ple judge  of  such  matters  with  far  greater  tolerance  than  in 
times  past ;  nobility  is  no  longer  what " — 

"  Dost  thou  think  so  1 "  uttered  Flyeln.  "  Oh,  my  friend  ! 
deceive  not  thyself  about  our  caste,  in  which  not  only  the 
physiognomies,  and  not  only  the  privileges,  but  also  the 
notions  and  prejudices  of  families  have  become  hereditary, 
and  having  been  transmitted  from  one  generation  to  the 
next,  cannot  be  extirpated.  Nobility  has  the  deeply-fixed 
idea  that  by  birth  they  are  of  a  better  mould  than  the  rest  of 
mankind.  If  it  even  must  yield  to  the  strength  of  revolutions, 
its  rooted  idea  will  still  keep  the  upperhand.  Didst  thou 
not  see  the  emigrant  nobility  of  France  in  misery  ?  They 
did  not  lose  their  self-conceit,  even  when  they  were  com- 
pelled to  mend  their  own  shoes,  and  to  wash  their  own 
shirts  !  B  ehold  now  again  the  young  French  noblemen, 
born  and  raised  in  misery  in  France.  What  are  they  do- 
ing ?  Instead  of  being  reconciled  to  their  fate,  they  com- 
plain because  they  are  to  share  all  political  privileges  with 
people  of  low  descent.  In  return  they  are  working  against 
the  Charter,  until  there  will  be  no  longer  any  charter,  and 
until  a  new  revolution  will  thrust  them  out  again." 

"  Here,  my  dear  advocate  " — I  replied — "  thou  sufferest 
thyself  to  be  caught  in  a  weakness,  of  which  I  am  much 
too  generous  to  make  use.  What  do  people  of  that 
country  prove  for  or  against  the  people  of  our  country? 


A  FOOL  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  267 

Who  from  the  notions  of  the  Indian  chiefs,  with  their  rings 
in  their  nose,  would  frame  an  accusation  against  our  nobility 
here  ?  We  will  leave  that  alone.  But  understand  me 
correctly ;  I  would  reconcile  thee  with  the  rest  of  the  world. 
A  small  sacrifice  from  thee,  with  a  trifling  compliance  in 
insignificant  outward  appearances,  and  all  thy  opinions  will 
be  forgiven,  even  thy  paradoxes.  It  is  our  duty  to  make 
some  sacrifices.  By  that  means  alone  can  we  secure  con- 
fidence. When  we  are  in  possession  of  public  confidence, 
then  only  can  we  work  publicly." 

"  Thou  demandest  a  small  sacrifice  of  me,  Norbert  " — said 
Flyeln — "  I  know  it  already.  Thou  requirest  as  trifles, 
nothing  less  than  that  I  should  yield  all  my  convictions, 
principles,  and  the  duties  which  spring  out  of  those  princi- 
ples. But  when  I  have  sacrificed  my  convictions  and 
principles,  that  is  %iy  whole  essence,  of  what  further  use 
can  I  then  be  to  the  world  ?  Wherewithal  shall  I  work 
any  good  ? " 

"  With  a  great  deal !  " — I  rejoined.  "  Look  at  other  wise 
men,  without  quarrelling  with  the  world,  they  effect  an 
immeasurable  quantum  of  good.  Why  canst  not  thou  do 
it  ?  What  canst  thou  effect  by  mere  example,  and  stand- 
ing alone  ;  when,  as  it  is  now  the  fact,  all  those  by  whom 
thou  art  surrounded,  misjudge  thee,  and  think  that  thou 
hast  lost  the  better  part  of  thine  intellect?" 

"This  question  deserves  an  answer" — answered  the 
baron — "for  of  all  the  questions  thou  yet  hast  asked,  it  is 
the  most  important.  Consider  my  privilege  as  a  man ;  that 
in  my  own  house  at  least  and  on  my  own  grounds,  I  may  be 
allowed  to  eat,  drink,  dress,  speak  and  act  according  to 
my  better  convictions,  when,  by  doing  so,  I  do  not  violate 
the  rights  of  another  person.  Since  I  then  find  the  foolery, 
the  insipidity,  the  artificial  manners,  the  unnatural  dis- 
tortions of  the  present  European  human  race,  as  it  now  is  en- 


288 


OLIVIER   FLYELN  : 


deavouring  to  crawl  out  of  the  swamps  of  the  old  barbarism, 
ridiculous,  pernicious,  and  contemptible,  shall  I  not  with 
all  my  inclination,  vocation,  and  duty  for  truth  and  justice, 
make  use  of  this  privilege  ;  even  at  the  risk  of  being  jeered 
at  by  barbarians,  those  animals  of  habit  and  art,  who  know 
no  better  ?  Must  the  circumnavigator  of  the  world,  when 
the  wild  Indians  place  human  flesh  before  him  to  eat,  con- 
quer his  horror,  and  imitate  their  abominable  custom,  that 
the  Indians  may  not  laugh  at  him  1  So  much,  Norbert,  of 
what  appertains  immediately  to  my  own  person." 

Here  Olivier  was  silent  for  a  moment ;  and  then  re- 
sumed : — "  But  oh,  Norbert,  remember  the  fragment  from 
the  travels  of  Pythias,  and  thine  own  confession  about  the 
pointing  truth.  Thou  thyself  dost  admit,  that  human  so- 
ciety in  our  part  of  the  world  have  wandered  a  great  dis- 
tance from  the  laws  of  nature.  Ye  al>>  acknowledge  that 
to  this  very  fact  we  can  trace  the  cause  of  sufferings  im- 
measurable ;  for  the  violations  of  the  eternal  laws  of  God 
carry  with  them  their  own  punishments  against  the  per- 
petrators. None  of  ye  will  deny  that  the  whole  of  your 
civic  and  domestic  conditions,  that  your  institutions,  morals, 
and  manner  of  living,  consist  at  most,  only  in  a  consequent 
arrangement  of  what  is  averse  to  nature.  But  who  of  ye 
has  the  heroic  spirit  of  reason  to  return  to  the  simple  eter- 
nal regulations  of  God  1  Ye  are  deficient  in  this  heroic 
spirit !  It  is  not  a  stranger  to  me.  It  is  well,  that  a  few 
individuals,  unmindful  of  the  misconceit  and  derision  of  the 
multitude,  are  setting  up  the  example  of  what  is  good  in 
this  life.  It  is  well,  that  single  persons  rise  up,  who,  to 
make  use  of  your  manner  of  talking,  do  not  capitulate  nor 
enter  into  a  compromise  with  the  all-governing  madness 
of  the  age,  but  declare  open  war  against  it.  Nothing  can 
be  accomplished  by  preaching  mere  doctrines  from  the 
pulpits,  rostrums,  and  the  stage,  and  by  advancing  mere 


A   FOOL   OF  THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  269 

philosophical  arguments,  and  by  eulogizing  nature  and 
truth.  Ye  are  continually  preaching,  philosophizing,  and 
writing ;  and  the  teachers  ever  remain  what  they  were, 
and  the  disciples  never  change.  Therefore  it  is  well,  that 
single  individuals  should  introduce  the  archetype  of  what  is 
better,  into  real  life.  At  first  they  will  of  course  be  con- 
sidered madmen,  and  be  scoffed  at  and  pitied.  The  eyes 
of  their  contemporaries  by  degrees  will  also  be  habituated 
to  those  heterogeneous  appearances.  At  last  they  will 
say  :  this  man's  opinions  are  in  many  respects  not  erro- 
neous. The  boldest  will  finally  venture  timidly  to  adopt 
single  ideas,  and  live  in  accordance  with  them.  And, 
Norbert !  whosoever  has  led  the  human  race,  or  only  a 
small  part  of  it,  but  one  step  back  to  nature,  he  has  done 
enough  for  the  fleetness  of  life.  Therefore,  my  friend, 
let  me  go  on  in  the  path  I  have  laid  out  for  myself!  Many 
are  in  the  habit  of  censuring  him  who  acts  correctly ;  only 
because  they  are  vexed  at  not  having  the  courage  like  him 
to  do -what  is  right.  Because,  in  eating  and  drinking,  I 
banish  all  luxury  and  all  that  is  outlandish  ;  because  I  dress 
more  comfortably  and  pleasing  to  the  eye  ;  because  I  pay 
a  becoming  respect  to  the  manly  beard ;  because  I  relin- 
quish all  privileges  and  prejudices  of  my  caste,  and  wish 
not  to  be  estimated  higher  than  is  my  due  ;  because  I  be- 
lieve that  by  marrying  a  girl  of  low  descent  and  born 
without  wedlock,  I  derogate  nought  from  my  respecta- 
bility ;  because  I  do  not  wish  to  redeem  my  honour  by 
fighting  a  duel,  and  carry  upon  my  breast  before  the  eyes 
of  the  world  a  childish  bauble  as  a  token  of  real  or  pre- 
tended merit ;  because  I  have  made  my  vassals  freemen, 
and  my  friends  ;  and  because  I  despise  lies,  and  acknow- 
ledge the  truth  without  fear — These  are  the  reasons  why, 
in  the  nineteenth  century,  I  am  treated  as  a  madman ;  al- 
though I  live  in  accordance  with  reason  ;  have  not  trans - 


270 


OLIVIER  FLYELN. 


gressed  against  the  institutions  and  laws  ;  have  harmed  no- 
body ;  done  good  to  many ;  and  have  never  violated  true 
morality  and  decorum  !  Here,  Norbert,  is  my  answer  to 
thy  question.    Now  let  us  break  off  the  subject !  " 

We  closed  our  conversation. — I  cast  my  arms  around 
the  noble  eccentric,  and  merely  said  to  him,  smilingly — 
"  We  have  an  old  adage — A  sharp  tool  is  easily  notched." 

Speedily  after,  we  separated.  The  remembrance  of 
Flyeln  I  shall  ever  consider  the  most  pleasing  episode  of 
my  life.  I  also  cannot  conceal  my  judgment,  that  if  the 
whole  world  were  to  fall  into  madness  like  that  of  my  friend 
Olivier,  I  would  most  joyfully  be  one  of  the  first  to  become 
crazy.  Since  that  period  we  have  resumed  our  correspond- 
ence, and  I  have  vowed,  from  time  to  time,  to  make  a  pil- 
grimage to  happy  Flyeln!  to  look  at  and  listen  to,  a  fool 

OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY  ! 


HORTENSIA  : 


ASLEEP    AND  AWAKE. 

Introductory. 

Four  German  officers  were  wounded  in  the  battle  of  Mo- 
lite  ;  but  the  charms,  the  splendour,  and  the  loveliness  of 
the  villa  to  which  they  were  removed,  the  hospitality  and 
kindness  of  their  host,  Ambrosio  Faustino,  and  the  cor- 
diality of  his  amiable  wife,  but  most  of  all,  the  agreeable 
discovery  that  the  liberal  Faustino  and  his  wife  were  of 
German  origin,  contributed  greatly  to  the  healing  of  their 
wounds.  He  had  formerly  been  called  Faust,  and  had 
been  induced  to  settle  in  Italy  near  the  Alps,  and  to  change 
his  name  by  a  most  singular  concatenation  of  circum- 
stances. The  delight  of  discoursing  in  their  mother  tongue, 
far  from  their  homes,  in  a  stranger  land,  tended  not  a  little 
to  increase  their  mutual  confidence. 

One  of  them  had  permission  to  pass  his  hours  in  Faus- 
tino's  library,  where,  among  a  splendid  array  of  select 
works,  he  found  some  Italian  manuscripts,  written  by 
Faust  himself.  They  were  memoirs  of  his  life,  intermixed 
with  observations  on  painting  and  sculpture.  Faust  al- 
lowed his  guest  to  peruse  them  ;  and  opening  one  of  the 
volumes,  directed  his  visitor  to  the  place  where  he  com- 
menced. 

"  Only  read,"  said  he,  "and  believe  me  it  is  truth,  how- 
ever incredible  the  details  may  appear.  To  me,  although 
I  myself  experienced  what  I  have  therein  described,  it 
seems  at  times  a  mere  illusion  of  the  brain."  The  en- 
suing pages  contain  a  fragment  of  Faust's  memoir. 


272 


HORTEXSIA  : 


CHAPTER    I  . 
Adventure  at  Venzone. 

On  the  twelfth  day  of  September,  1771,  I  crossed  the  river 
Tagliamenio  at  Sjrilimberge,  and  was  rapidly  approaching 
the  frontiers  of  Germany,  the  land  of  my  birth,  which  I 
had  not  seen  during  many  years.  My  soul  was  filled  with 
indescribable  sadness.  It  seemed  as  if  an  invisible  power 
was  driving  me  back  continually,  and  calling  upon  me — 
"  Return !  "  I  stopped  several  times  on  the  miserable 
road  to  cast  a  look  towards  Italy,  and  felt  a  restless  desire 
to  retrace  my  steps  to  Venice.  Still,  when  I  thought  of 
what  I  could  do  there,  or  whereby  I  could  gain  a  sub- 
sistence, I  continued  my  way  towards  the  dark  mountains 
which  rose  in  silent  grandeur  amid  the  mists  and  rain. 

I  had  but  little  money  left,  scarcely  enough  to  reach 
Vienna  ;  unless  I  sought  aid  in  charity,  or  sold  my  watch, 
or  a  part  of  the  apparel  that  I  carried  in  my  knapsack. 
The  greater  part  of  my  youth  had  been  passed  in  Italy, 
for  the  purpose  of  perfecting  myself  in  painting  and  sculp- 
ture, and  then  on  reaching  my  twenty-seventh  year,  I  had 
come  to  the  sad  conclusion  that  I  could  never  produce  any 
thing  by  which  I  might  gain  a  rank  among  the  artists  of 
renown.  My  friends  in  Rome  often  had  the  kindness  to 
encourage  me,  and  for  some  of  my  pieces  I  had  occa- 
sionally received  a  high  price  ;  but  that  afforded  me  little 
consolation,  as  I  was  obliged  to  condemn  works  that  did 
not  satisfy  myself.  I  experienced  the  painful  sensation 
that  I  was,  and  ever  should  be,  too  impotent  with  my  brush 
or  chisel  to  call  those  ideal  images  into  life  which  dwelt  in 
my  imagination.  That  made  me  despair  of  my  own 
powers.    I  sought  not  after  gold.    I  longed  for  the  magic 


ASLEEP   A?JD  AWAKE. 


273 


of  art,  and  inwardly  bemoaned  the  years  which  I  had  lost, 
and  reviled  myself.  I  was  returning  to  Germany  where  I 
then  had  friends.  I  longed  for  some  sequestered  spot,  in 
which  I  could  forget  myself.  I  desired  nothing  more  than 
an  appointment  as  a  village  schoolmaster,  or  something  of 
that  kind,  to  punish  the  audacious  ambition  which  had 
aspired  to  be  the  rival  of  Raphael  and  Angelo  ! 

The  rain  had  lasted  some  days,  and  that  increased  my 
uneasiness.  The  thought — "Oh,  that  I  could  die !  " — 
would  often  rise  within  me.  One  shower  obliged  me  to 
stray  from  my  road,  and  seek  shelter  under  a  tree.  There 
I  sat,  dejectedly  contemplating  the  scattered  hopes  and 
plans  of  my  life.  I  found  myself  in  a  desert  of  wild  moun- 
tains. The  cold  rain  was  pouring  down  in  torrents  ;  and 
near  me  rippled  a  swollen  mountain  stream,  rushing 
through  the  rocks. 

"  What  will  become  of  me  ? " — I  sighed,  looking  to- 
wards the  stream,  and  contemplating  whether  it  were  deep 
enough  to  drown  myself  in  it.  I  regretted  that  I  had  not 
before  put  an  end  to  my  earthly  sorrows  in  the  Taglia- 
mento.  On  a  sudden,  I  was  overpowered  by  an  indescrib- 
able and  deadly  fear.  I  felt  shocked  at  myself;  at  my  re- 
solution, and  my  desires.  I  sprang  up,  and  rushed  onward 
in  the  midst  of  the  storm,  as  if  to  fly  from  myself,  for  night 
began  to  extend  its  gloom. 

At  length,  I  arrived  at  a  lonely  large  house,  not  far  from 
the  village  of  Venzone.  The  increasing  darkness,  the 
continuing  rain,  and  my  own  fatigue,  induced  me  to  re- 
main at  the  building,  before  which  stood  the  friendly  in- 
viting sign  of  "  Entertainment  for  travellers"  On  passing 
the  threshold,  a  tremendous  shudder  and  the  same  fear  of 
death  seized  me  which  I  had  experienced  on  the  rock  in 
the  morning.  I  stopped  at  the  door  for  breath  ;  but  when 
in  the  warm  bar-room,  the  life  of  man  breathed  again 
13 


274 


HORTENSIA  : 


■within  me,  and  I  felt  lighter  and  easier  than  I  had  done  for 
many  days  before.  All  this  doubtless  was  the  effect  of 
corporeal  weakness. 

I  received  a  hearty  welcome,  and  with  a  light  heart 
threw  my  knapsack  on  the  table  ;  after  which  I  was  shown 
into  a  small  adjoining  room  to  take  off  my  wet  apparel. 
While  making  the  change,  I  heard  hasty  footsteps  on  the 
stairs,  opening  of  doors,  and  rapid  questions  about  myself. 
"  Will  he  stay  in  the  house  all  night  ?  Did  he  arrive  on 
foot  ?  Did  he  carry  a  knapsack  ?  Has  he  light  hair  ?  " 
With  similar  pertinent  inquiries.  They  left,  returned 
again,  and  another  voice  asked  other  questions.  I  did  not 
know  how  to  explain  it. 

When  I  re-entered  the  bar  room,  all  eyes  were  turned 
with  curiosity  towards  me.  I  feigned  not  to  perceive  any 
thing.  But  I  also  was  tormented  by  an  insatiate  curiosity 
to  know  why  I  had  been  asked  for  with  so  much  concern. 
I  turned  the  conversation  to  the  weather,  from  the  weather 
to  travelling  ;  and  then  asked  the  question — "  Are  there 
any  more  strangers  in  the  house  ?  " — "  Certainly  ;  "  was 
the  reply,  "  a  noble  family  from  Germany,  consisting  of  an 
old  gentleman,  a  most  beautiful  young  lady  who  is  sick  to 
death,  a  noble  elderly  lady,  perhaps  the  young  lady's 
mother,  a  family  physician,  two  servants  and  two  chamber- 
maids. The  family  arrived  at  noon,  and  have  been  detained 
partly  through  the  inclemency  of  the  weather,  and  partly 
on  account  of  the  indisposition  of  the  young  lady.  More- 
over, I  learned  that  both  the  physician  and  the  old  gentle- 
man, in  a  great  hurry,  and  almost  in  fear  and  astonishment, 
had  inquired  at  the  bar-room  for  me.  The  host  assured 
me  that  the  family  knew  me  perfectly  well ;  and  told  me  to 
walk  up,  as  I  should  certainly  meet  some  old  friends  and 
acquaintances,  for  they  seemed  to  have  expected  me. 

shook  my  head,  convin  ced  that  this  was  a  mistake.  I 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


275 


had  no  acquaintance  with  any  noble  family  in  the  whole 
world,  and  least  of  all  with  that  of  a  German.  I  was  more 
confirmed  in  my  supposition,  when  an  old  servant  of  the 
strangers  sat  down  at  my  table,  and  in  broken  Italian, 
asked  for  wine.  When  I  addressed  him  in  German,  his 
mother  tongue,  his  countenance  at  once  became  serene. 
He  then  told  me  all  he  knew  of  the  family.  His  master,  a 
Count  Hormegg,  at  present  was  travelling  with  his  daughter 
towards  Italy,  for  the  purpose  of  benefiting  her  health  by  a 
change  of  air. 

The  more  the  old  man  drank,  the  more  talkative  he  be- 
came. Gloomily  as  he  had  at  first  sat  by  my  side,  at  the 
second  bottle  of  wine  he  breathed  more  freely.  When  I 
told  him  that  I  intended  to  go  to  Germany,  he  sighed  deeply, 
looked  towards  Heaven,  and  tears  rose  in  his  eyes — 
"  Could  I  but  go  with  you  !  "  he  said  fervently,  and  in  a  low 
tone  of  voice — "  I  can  endure  this  no  longer.  On  this 
family,  I  believe,  rests  a  curse.  Wondrous  things  happen 
here.  I  dare  confide  them  to  no  man,  and  if  I  dared,  who 
would  believe  me?" 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  Mournful  Travellers. 

Aik  the  third  flask  of  wine,  however,  the  old  Sebald,  that 
was  his  name,  allowed  himself  to  become  more  communi- 
cative. 

"  My  countryman  "  he  said,  addressing  me,  as  he  looked 
timidly  around  the  room ;  but  no  one  except  ourselves  was 
there,  and  we  sat  alone  by  the  dim  light — "  my  country- 
man, I  cannot  be  blinded.  Calamity  is  united  with  plenty 
and  abundance  of  wealth.  Here — God  have  mercy  on  us  ! 
does  the  evil  spirit  riot.    The  count  is  enormously  rich  ; 


276 


HORTENSIA  : 


but  he  sneaks  about  like  a  poor  sinner,  and  is  very  seldom 
heard  to  speak.  He  leads  an  unhappy  life.  The  old  lady 
companion  or  governess  to  his  daughter  Hortensia,  looks 
at  all  this  as  if  with  a  troubled  conscience,  in  continual 
fear.  The  countess  herself — well !  a  child  of  paradise 
could  scarcely  be  more  beautiful ;  but  I  believe  her  father 
has  bartered  her  to  the  devil.    Hark  !  what  was  that  1  " 

Sebald,  terror-stricken,  sprang  from  his  seat.  His 
countenance  was  pale  as  death.  It  was  nothing  but  the 
storm  that  had  closed  one  of  the  window-shutters  rather 
abruptly.  When  I  had  allayed  his  fears  in  some  measure, 
he  continued — "  It  is  no  wonder  a  person  has  to  live  in 
continual  deadly  fear.  One  of  us  will  and  must  die  shortly. 
So  I  have  heard  Miss  Catharine  say.  God  have  mercy  upon 
us !  Could  I  not  recreate  myself  occasionally  with  my 
comrade  Thomas  over  a  bottle  of  wine,  I  should  long 
since  have  run  away.  We  do  not  feel  the  want  of  any 
thing  here  but  of  cheerfulness." 

It  seemed  as  if  Sebald  was  a  little  affected  by  the  wine 
he  drank. 

"  Whence  do  you  draw  the  conjecture  that  one  of  you 
will  soon  die  ? "  I  inquired. 

"  Here  is  nothing  to  conjecture  " — replied  Sebald — "  it 
is  but  too  certain.  The  Countess  Hortensia  has  said  it, 
but  no  one  dares  repeat  it.  At  Judenberg,  the  same  thing 
occurred  two  weeks  ago.  The  countess  predicted  the 
death  of  one  of  us.  No  one  believed  it.  We  were  all  well 
and  in  good  spirits.  Of  a  sudden,  as  we  were  upon  the 
road,  Mr.  Muller,  the  secretary  of  the  count,  a  most  amia- 
ble man,  was  precipitated  with  his  horse  and  baggage 
from  the  road,  over  the  rocks  into  the  abyss  below,  ten 
times  deeper  than  the  height  of  the  spire  of  the  church. 
That  was  a  frightful  sight.  For  a  time  I  lost  my  eyes  and 
ears.    Man  and  horse  lay  crushed  to  atoms.    When  you 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


277 


pass  through  the  village  where  he  is  buried,  the  people  will 
tell  you  of  that  mournful  occurrence.  As  for  myself,  I  ab- 
hor the  thought  of  it.  But  now,  the  only  question  is  this — 
who  of  us  will  be  the  next  victim  ?  But  if  it  happens,  I 
shall  ask  the  count  immediately  for  my  dismissal.  Such 
things  do  not  occur  naturally.  My  old  head  is  of  some 
value,  and  I  should  not  like  to  lose  it  in  the  service  of  this 
strange  visionary,  who  is  always  calling  for  Immanuel !  " 

I  smiled  at  his  superstitious  fears.  But  he  swore  by  all 
that  is  high  and  holy,  as  he  whispered  to  me — "The 
Countess  Hortensia  certainly  is  beset  by  a  whole  legion  of 
demons.  A  year  ago,  she  ran  several  times  about  the  roof 
of  the  Hormegg  castle,  more  expertly  than  we  can  walk 
on  this  even  floor.  Often  she  falls  quite  unexpectedly  into 
trances,  and  then  she  sees  heaven  open  to  her  view,  and 
prophesies.  She  looks  into  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  hu- 
man heart.  Doctor  Walter,  certainly  a  very  honest  man, 
asserts  that  she  can  not  only  see  into  people  as  if  they  were 
made  of  glass,  but  that  her  eyes  even  penetrate  through 
doors  and  walls.  Oh,  it  is  horrible  !  In  her  lucid  hours 
she  is  perfectly  sane.  But  alas  !  in  her  enchanted  hours, 
when  some  one  else  speaks  out  of  her,  she  rules  all  of  us. 
We  could  have  remained  upon  the  broad  highroad.  But 
no !  immediately  on  leaving  Villach,  we  had  to  cross  the 
terrible  mountains  by  miserable  roads,  upon  sumpter-horses 
and  mules.  Why  ?  Because  she  would  have  it  so.  Had 
we  remained  upon  the  highroad,  Mr.  Muller  might  have 
been  alive  this  day." 


278 


HORTENSIA  : 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  Engagement. 

The  entrance  of  the  people  of  the  hotel,  who  spread  a 
scanty  supper  before  me,  interrupted  Sebald's  loquacity. 
He  promised  to  disclose  more  secrets  to  me  when  we  should 
again  be  alone,  and  then  left  me.  In  his  place,  a  small, 
lean,  and  surly-looking  man  sat  himself  down,  whom  Se- 
bald,  on  going  out  of  the  room,  addressed  as  "  Doctor  !  " 
From  this  circumstance  I  knew  that  I  had  another  member 
of  that  mysterious  and  sad  travelling  company  before  me. 
The  physician  looked  long  and  silently  at  me  while  I  was 
eating.  Then  he  began  to  question  me  in  French,  whence 
I  came,  and  whither  I  was  going  ?  When  he  heard  that  I 
was  a  German,  he  was  more  familiar,  and  began  to  speak 
to  me  in  my  mother  tongue.  On  questioning  him,  the  doc- 
tor told  me  that  Count  Hormegg  was  on  his  journey  to 
Venice  with  his  sick  daughter. 

"  How  would  you  like  " — said  the  doctor — "  since  you 
have  no  definite  duty  or  purpose  in  going  to  Germany,  to 
join  our  party  ?  You  speak  the  Italian  language  more  flu- 
ently than  any  of  us  ;  you  know  the  country  and  its  cus- 
toms, and  the  healthy  regions.  You  would  be  of  the  ut- 
most benefit  to  us.  The  count  would  immediately  put  you 
into  the  place  of  his  late  secretary,  with  free  board,  a  plea- 
sant life,  a  salary  of  six  hundred  florins,  and  the  well- 
known  liberality  of  the  count." 

I  shook  my  head,  observing  that  the  count  did  not  know 
me,  nor  I  the  count,  w7ell  enough  to  foresee  whether  we 
should  suit  each  other.  Then  the  doctor  began  to  eulogize 
the  count ;  but  I  replied — "  It  will  be  difficult  to  tell  the 
count  as  much  in  my  behalf." — "Oh,  if  that  is  all  the  hin- 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


279 


drancc  " — he  exclaimed  hastily — "  you  are  already  recom- 
mended to  him.    You  may  depend  on  what  I  say." 

"  Recommended  ?  by  whom  1  " — I  asked. 

The  doctor  seemed  to  hunt  for  words  in  order  to  cover 
his  precipitancy.  "  By  necessity  !  I  am  permitted  to  tell 
you  that  the  count  will  give  you  a  hundred  louis-d'ors  if 
you — " 

"No  !  " — I  replied — "  I  have  never  in  my  life  aimed  at 
abundance,  but  have  only  sought  for  the  necessaries  of  life. 
From  childhood  I  have  been  accustomed  to  independence. 
I  am  anything  but  rich,  but  I  will  not  sell  my  liberty." 

The  doctor  seemed  hurt,  but  I  was  fully  serious  in  the 
answer  I  made.  Besides,  I  was  determined  not  to  return 
to  Italy,  that  my  passion  for  the  arts  might  not  again  tri- 
umph over  me.  Moreover,  I  was  disgusted  with  the  sudden 
and  urgent  importunity  of  the  doctor,  and  altogether  with 
the  conduct  of  that  travelling  company,  though  I  did  not 
believe  that  the  sick  countess  was  possessed  of  a  whole  le- 
gion of  demons.  When  he  found  that  all  his  persuasions 
were  useless,  and  only  made  me  more  obstinate,  the  phy- 
sician left  me, 

I  then  reflected  on  various  little  matters  ;  compared  my 
poverty  with  the  comfortable  life  proposed  to  me  as  a  fol- 
lower of  the  rich  count,  and  played  with  the  few  gold  pieces 
which  constituted  the  whole  amount  of  my  wealth.  But 
the  result  of  my  reflection  still  was — "  Away  from  Italy  ! 
God's  whole  world  is  open  to  you.  Be  firm !  Let  me 
only  have  peace  within  my  breast,  a  village  school,  and 
independence.  I  must  first  become  myself  again  ;  have  I 
not  lost  my  all  1  the  whole  plan  of  my  life  ?  Money  cannot 
restore  that." 

My  astonishment  was  greatly  increased,  when  about 
ten  minutes  after  the  doctor  had  left  me,  a  servant  ap- 
peared, and  requested  me  to  pay  the  count  a  visit  in  his 


280 


nOETEXSIA  : 


room.  "What  in  the  world  can  these  people  want  of  me  ?  " 
I  thought ;  but  I  promised  to  attend  him.  The  adventure, 
if  not  amusing,  began  at  least  to  be  interesting. 

I  found  the  count  alone  in  his  room,  pacing  with  large 
strides  up  and  down.  He  was  a  tall,  strong,  noble-looking 
man,  of  much  apparent  dignity.  The  expression  of  his 
face  was  pleasing,  but  gloomy.  He  immediately  walked 
towards  me  ;  excused  himself  for  having  sent  for  me  ;  con- 
ducted me  to  a  seat ;  repeated  what  he  had  heard  of  me 
through  his  physician  ;  and  renewed  the  doctor's  offer, 
which  I  firmly,  but  modestly  refused.  He  turned  away  to- 
ward the  window,  crossed  his  hands  behind  him,  and  fell  into 
a  fit  of  musing.  After  which  he  sat  down  by  my  side,  took 
my  hand,  and  said — "  Friend,  I  appeal  to  your  heart.  Ap- 
pearances deceive  me  greatly,  if  you  are  not  an  honourable 
man,  so  be  candid.  Remain  with  me,  I  conjure  you  !  for  only 
two  years  remain  with  me.  You  may  rely  upon  my  grati- 
tude. You  shall  have  all  you  need  ;  and  at  the  end  of  that 
time,  I  will  pay  you  a  thousand  louis-d'ors.  So  you  will 
not  repent  the  two  years  lost  in  my  service.  " 

He  said  this  so  kindly  and  so  imploringly,  that  I  was 
more  moved  by  the  tone  in  which  he  spoke,  than  by  the 
promise  of  the  large  amount,  which  to  me,  with  my  small 
wants,  seemed  sufficient  to  secure  to  me  a  happy  and  inde- 
pendent life.  I  should  at  once  have  accepted  his  proposal, 
had  I  not  felt  ashamed  to  let  him  see  that  the  offer  of  base 
lucre  could  so  quickly  change  my  mind.  But  on  the  other 
hand,  such  a  splendid  proposal  seemed  suspicious. 

"For  such  a  sum,  my  lord" — I  answered — "greater 
talents  than  mine  are  at  your  command.  You  know  me 
not."  I  then  spoke  openly  of  what  had  hitherto  been  my 
lot,  and  my  occupation  ;  thinking  thus,  without  giving  of- 
fence, to  remove  his  offer  and  wishes. 

"We  must  not  part  again" — he  exclaimed,  pressing 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


281 


kindly  my  hand — "  we  must  not  part  again,  for  only  you 
have  I  sought.  For  your  sake,  wonder  as  you  may,  I 
have  undertaken  this  journey  with  my  daughter  ;  for  your 
sake,  I  chose  this  miserable  road  from  Villach  here,  that 
I  might  not  miss  you  ;  and  for  your  sake,  I  have  stopped 
at  this  tavern." 

I  stared  with  astonishment  at  his  speech,  thinking  that 
he  was  in  a  humour  to  ridicule  me.  "  How  could  you  seek 
me,  when  you  are  not  acquainted  with  me  ?  and  when  no 
one  could  know  which  way  I  travelled  ?  Three  days  ago, 
I  myself  was  not  apprised  which  route  I  should  take  to 
Germany  " — was  my  reply. 

"  You  are  mistaken " — continued  the  Count.  "  This 
afternoon  you  rested  in  a  forest — am  I  right?  You  were 
sitting  in  a  wilderness,  and  were  full  of  trouble,  leaning 
against  a  rock  underneath  a  great  tree.  You  looked  at  a 
mountain  torrent,  and  in  spite  of  the  rain,  you  ran  hurriedly 
onward.  Is  it  not  so  ?  Acknowledge  it  openly,  is  it  not 
so?" 

At  these  words  I  nearly  lost  my  senses.  He  observed 
my  confusion,  and  said — "  Most  certainly,  it  is  so  !  You 
are  the  very  man  whom  I  have  sought."  "  But  " — I  ex- 
claimed,— and  I  will  not  deny  that  a  superstitious  fear 
befel  me,  as  I  drew  my  hand  from  his, — "  but  who  observed 
me  ?  who  told  you  this  ?  " 

" My  daughter  " — he  replied — "my  sick  daughter.  I 
can  easily  understand  that  this  appears  marvellous  to  you ; 
but  that  unfortunate  one  sees  and  says  in  her  fits  of  sick- 
ness, many  things  still  more  strange  than  that.  For  four 
weeks,  she  has  asserted  that  through  your  interference 
alone,  she  should  be  enabled  to  return  to  full  health.  Four 
weeks  ago,  my  daughter  described  you,  as  you  now  stand 
before  me.  A  fortnight  since,  she  affirmed  that  you  would 
come,  sent  by  God,  to  meet  us.  We  had  to  break  up,  in 
13* 


282 


HORTEXSIA  J 


order  to  find  you.  We  departed.  She  pointed  out  the  way 
we  should  take,  at  least  the  direction,  on  the  compass. 
With  a  compass  in  the  carriage,  and  a  map  in  hand,  we 
travelled,  not  knowing  whither,  like  mariners  in  the  ocean. 
At  Villach,  she  pointed  out  the  nearest  road  to  where  we 
should  meet  with  you.  She  described  every  particular  of 
it,  and  thus  we  left  the  high  road.  From  Hortensia's  own 
lips,  I  learned  this  afternoon  how  near  you  were  to  us, 
and  also  the  little  circumstances  which  I  have  already 
mentioned.  Immediately  after  your  arrival,  Doctor  Walter 
declared,  by  the  description  of  the  host,  that  in  every  thing 
you  resembled  the  person,  whom  four  weeks  ago,  and  since 
then  almost  daily,  Hortensia  described.  Now  I  am  per- 
fectly convinced,  that  since  so  much  already  has  been  ful- 
filled, that  you,  and  no  one  else,  can  save  my  child,  and 
restore  me  again  to  the  happiness  of  life." 

He  was  silent,  and  awaited  my  reply.  I  remained 
long  undecided,  and  did  not  know  how  to  answer,  for 
nothing  so  singular  had  ever  occurred  to  me  in  the  whole 
course  of  my  life.  I  therefore  said — "  What  you  tell  me, 
count,  is  somewhat  incomprehensible,  and  consequently, 
excuse  me,  somewhat  incredible.  I  am,  or  rather  was, 
nothing  but  an  artist.  Of  medical  science,  however,  I 
know  nothing." 

"  Much  that  occurs  in  life,"  he  remarked,  "  is  incompre- 
hensible. But  it  does  not  follow  that  all  things  incompre- 
hensible are  therefore  impossible  ;  particularly,  when  we 
cannot  but  admit  the  reality,  and  the  appearance  stands 
before  us,  the  causes  of  which  we  know  not.  You  are  not 
a  physician,  I  admit ;  but  that  power  which  revealed  to  my 
daughter  the  fact  of  your  existence — do  not  doubt  it  for  a 
moment — intended  you  also  for  her  deliverer !  In  my 
younger  years  I  was  a  freethinker,  who  scarcely  believed 
the  existence  of  a  God — and  now  in  my  old  age,  like  an 


ASLEEP  AXD  AWAKE. 


283 


old  village  gossip,  I  can  be  made  to  believe  in  the  existence 
of  devilry,  witchcraft,  and  apparitions.  From  all  this,  Faust, 
you  may  explain  to  yourself  my  importunity  and  my  offers. 
The  one  is  pardonable  to  a  father  who  lives  in  continual 
fear  for  his  only  child — -the  other  is  certainly  not  too  great 
for  the  salvation  of  a  life  so  highly  prized.  I  can  easily 
understand  that  all  this  must  appear  to  you  alike  unexpected, 
adventurous  and  romantic.  But  remain  with  us,  and  you 
will  be  a  witness  of  many  things  that  are  strange,  as  well 
as  unexpected.  Would  you  have  any  occupations  besides 
the  diversion  of  travelling  ?  It  depends  upon  yourself  to 
choose  them,  for  I  shall  impose  no  work  on  you.  Only  re- 
main my  constant  companion  and  my  consolation !  An 
hour  pregnant  with  calamity  which  may  be  very  near,  is 
vet  pending  over  me.  One  person  out  of  our  company  will 
die  suddenly,  and  if  I  have  understood  it  right,  an  unusual 
death.  It  may  be  myself.  My  daughter  has  predicted  it. 
It  will  certainly  come  to  pass.  I  tremble  to  meet  the  fatal 
moment  which  I  cannot  buy  off  with  all  my  fortune.  I  am 
a  very  unhappy  man  !  " 

He  spoke  until  he  was  moved  to  tears.  I  myself  was 
singularly  embarrassed.  All  I  had  heard  first  filled  me 
with  astonishment,  and  then  with  just  doubts.  I  often  was 
tempted  to  suspect  the  clear  judgment  of  the  count,  and 
then  mine  own.  Finally,  I  resolved  to  engage  in  the 
wonderful  enterprise  at  once,  let  the  consequences  be  what 
they  would.  To  suspect  the  count  of  being  an  impostor  I 
thought  would  be  unjust ;  and  in  this  wide  world  I  had 
neither  occupation,  nor  wherewithal  to  provide  for  myself. 

"  Your  liberal  proffer,  count,  I  renounce,"  I  said  ;  "  give 
me  only  as  much  as  I  shall  need.  I  will  accompany  you. 
It  is  sufficient  for  me  to  live  in  hope,  that  I  may  be  able  to 
contribute  to  your  comfort,  and  to  the  preservation  of  your 
daughter's  life  ;  although  I  can  in  no  wise  comprehend  how. 


284 


IIORTEXSIA  i 


An  individual's  life  is  valuable.  I  shall  be  proud  if,  at  a 
future  time,  I  may  permit  myself  to  believe  that  I  have  been 
instrumental  in  saving  the  life  of  a  fellow-creature.  But  I 
acquit  you  of  all  your  promises.  I  do  nothing  for  money. 
I  must  therefore  insist  upon  retaining  my  independence.  I 
will  remain  in  your  attendance  as  long  as  I  may  be  of  any 
benefit  to  you  ;  or  as  long  as  my  life  in  your  service  may  be 
agreeable.  If  you  will  accept  of  my  services  on  those 
conditions,  I  am  yours  ;  and  in  that  case  you  may  introduce 
me  to  your  patient." 

The  count's  eyes  glistened  with  joy.  He  only  exclaimed — 
"  God  be  praised  !  "  After  some  time,  he  said — "  To-morrow 
you  shall  see  my  daughter.  She  has  already  gone  to  rest. 
I  must  prepare  her  for  your  presence." 

"  Prepare  her  for  my  presence  1 "  I  asked  with  astonish- 
ment— "  Did  you  not  tell  me  a  few  minutes  ago  that  she 
had  informed  you  of  my  arrival,  that  she  had  described  my 
person  ?  " 

"  Forgive  me,  Faust,"  answered  the  count,  "  I  forgot  to 
mention  one  more  circumstance  to  you.  My  daughter  is  a 
sort  of  double  person.  Of  what  she  hears,  sees,  knows 
and  says  in  her  transports,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  she 
knows  not  a  word  in  her  natural  state.  She  cannot  recall, 
from  the  period  of  her  transports,  the  minutest  circumstance. 
She  herself  doubts  having  spoken  and  done  what  we  tell 
her  she  has — except  as  she  puts  implicit  confidence  in  my 
words.  During  the  hours  of  her  transports  she  not  only 
remembers  every  thing  that  has  transpired  in  a  similar  state, 
but  also  every  circumstance  which  she  has  met  with  during 
her  usual  and  natural  life.  She  only  has  seen  and 
described  you  in  her  transports  ;  but  excepting  this,  she 
knows  nothing  more  of  you  than  what  we  have  told  her,  as 
a  repetition  of  her  own  words.  You  are  therefore  entirely 
unknown  to  her.    Let  us  wait  for  the  extraordinary  time  ; 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


285 


and  I  doubt  not  in  the  least,  that  she  w  ill  recognise  you 
immediately." 

During  a  conversation  of  some  hours  which  I  had  with 
the  count,  I  also  learned  that  his  daughter,  for  several  years 
back,  had  manifested  a  great  propensity  to  somnambulism. 
In  the  state  of  her  somnambulism,  without  being  able  to  re- 
member any  thing  afterwards,  with  closed  eyes  she  had  left 
her  bed  ;  dressed  herself ;  written  letters  to  absent  friends  ; 
played  the  most  difficult  pieces  on  the  piano  ;  and  done 
a  hundred  little  matters  with  a  nicety  and  precision,  which 
she  neither  possessed  in  her  waking  state,  nor  could  ever 
obtain  afterwards.  The  count  thought  that  that  which  he 
called  transport  could  not  be  any  thing  else  than  a  higher 
degree  of  somnambulism,  but  which  debilitated  his  daughter 
to  that  degree  that  at  last  it  might  cause  her  death. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

A  Terrible  Occurrence. 

It  was  late  when  I  left  the  count's  room.  No  one  was 
in  the  bar-room  except  old  Sebald. 

"  Sir," — he  said — "  will  you  not  speak  a  little  in  German 
with  me,  that  I  may  not  entirely  forget  my  own  honest  lan- 
guage, for  that  indeed  would  be  a  great  pity.  Have  you 
seen  the  count  ?  " 

"  I  have  " — was  my  reply.  "  I  now  shall  be  one  of 
your  company,  and  shall  go  with  you  to  Italy." 

"  Excellent !  " — said  Sebald — "  I  always  feel  happy  when 
I  have  a  German  face  near  me  ;  for  I  have  been  told  that 
the  Italians  are  not  the  best  people  in  the  world.  Except 
the  mad  countess,  you  will  find  every  thing  very  agreeable 
in  our  company ;  and  as  you  now  are  one  of  us,  I  may  be 
permitted  to  speak  more  openly  in  regard  to  our  affairs. 


286 


HORTEXSIA  : 


The  count  would  be  a  good  master,  could  he  but  laugh.  I 
believe  he  does  not  even  like  it  when  one  of  us  laughs. 
Whosoever  is  about  his  person,  wears  an  aspect  as  if  the 
last  day  was  nigh.  The  old  lady  also  would  be  very  good, 
did  she  not  scold  so  much,  when  one  does  not  instantly  fly 
to  do  her  bidding.  I  believe  she  goes  to  Italy  only  on  ac- 
count of  the  fine  distilled  waters,  for  she  loves  a  glass  of 
good  liqueur.  The  young  countess  might  also  be  very 
agreeable,  were  she  not,  laying  her  pride  aside,  beset  by  a 
whole  legion  of  demons.  Doctor  Walter  would  be  the 
best  of  us  all,  had  he  but  the  art  to  exorcise  those  devils. 
My  comrade  Thomas  ." 

At  that  moment  the  host,  the  picture  of  fright,  rushed 
into  the  room,  crying  out — "  Help  !  help  !  The  house  is 
on  fire." 

"  Where  ?  "—I  asked. 

"  In  a  room  up  stairs.  In  the  yard  I  saw  the  bright 
flames  shining  through  the  window  " — replied  the  landlord. 

He  ran  away.  The  house  was  in  a  tumult  and  uproar. 
As  I  was  going  to  leave  the  room,  Sebald,  with  a  face  as 
pale  as  death,  held  me  with  both  his  arms.  "  What  has 
happened  again  ?"  I  told  him  in  German  to  go  for  water, 
as  fire  had  broken  out  in  one  of  the  rooms.  "  Another 
diabolical  piece  of  business  !  " — he  exclaimed,  and  ran 
towards  the  kitchen. 

There  was  running  up  and  down  the  stairs.  The  room 
in  which  the  fire  was  said  to  be,  was  locked.  Instruments 
for  bursting  the  door  were  sought.  Sebald,  as  soon  as  my- 
self, with  a  bucket  full  of  water,  was  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs.  When  he  saw  the  door  to  which  every  one  pressed, 
he  exclaimed — "  That  is  the  room  of  the  old  lady  !  " 

"  Burst  the  door  " — exclaimed  the  count,  with  death-like 
horror. — "  Burst  the  door,  otherwise  the  Lady  Montluc, 
who  sleeps  in  that  room,  will  be  smothered  !  " 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


287 


Meanwhile  a  man  had  come  with  an  axe.  He  burst 
open  the  strong  well-jointed  oaken  door.  All  pressed  for- 
ward, but  every  one  started  back  horror-struck  ! 

The  room  was  dark.  Only  in  the  further  part  of  it, 
next  to  the  window,  yellow  bluish  flames  were  playing  on 
the  floor,  which  however  soon  became  extinct.  A  strong 
and  disagreeable  smell  met  us  on  opening  the  door. 
Sebald  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  at  one  bound  was 
at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs.  A  few  female  servants  fol- 
lowed him.  The  count  called  for  a  light.  I  walked  through 
the  room,  and  opened  the  window.  The  count  approached 
the  bed.  It  was  empty  and  untouched,  and  nowhere  was 
there  any  smoke  !  At  the  window  the  scent  was  so  strong, 
that  I  almost  fell  fainting  to  the  floor. 

The  count  called  out  the  name  of  the  Lady  Montluc,, 
When  he  came  near  me  with  the  light,  I  saw  at  my  feet — 
imagine  my  horror — a  great  black  spot,  and  beside  it  lay  a 
human  head,  so  much  scorched,  that  it  could  not  be  recog- 
nised ;  an  arm  with  a  hand  in  another  place,  three  fingers 
with  golden  rings,  and  the  foot  of  a  female,  partly  burned. 

"  Great  God  !  " — solemnly  exclaimed  the  count,  his 
countenance  changing — "  What  is  this  ?  "  He  looked 
with  a  shudder  at  the  remains  of  what  once  had  been  a 
human  form.  When  he  saw  the  fingers  with  the  rings,  he 
sprang  back  with  a  loud  shriek  towards  the  doctor,  who 
was  at  that  moment  entering  the  room,  and  exclaimed — 
"  Lady  Montluc  is  burnt,  consumed,  and  yet  there  is  no 
fire,  no  smoke — incomprehensible  occurrence  !  " 

He  came  tottering  back,  to  convince  himself  once  more 
of  the  truth  of  his  discovery.  Then  he  handed  the  light  to 
some  one  else,  folded  his  arms  motionless  before  him,  and 
left  the  room  deathly  pale. 

I  myself  stood  there  as  if  petrified  by  the  unheard-of 
and  disgusting  spectacle.    All  that  had  occurred  in  the 


288 


HORTEXSIA  : 


course  of  the  day,  the  wonders  which  had  been  related  to 
me,  affected  me  so  much,  that  I  looked  without  emotion  at 
the  black  dust,  the  coals,  and  the  loathsome  remains  of  the 
human  corpse  at  my  feet.  The  room  was  soon  filled  with 
servants,  both  male  and  female,  belonging  to  the  tavern.  I 
heard  their  whispering,  their  creeping.  I  imagined  myself 
standing  amongst  spectres.  It  seemed  as  if  all  the  nursery 
tales  I  had  heard  in  my  childhood,  were  to  be  realized. 

When  I  had  recovered  from  my  stupefaction,  I  departed 
from  the  room.  As  I  was  going  to  the  bar-room,  a  side 
door  opened,  and  out  of  it  came,  supported  by  two  females 
each  carrying  a  candle,  a  young  lady  in  a  light  half-dress. 
With  dazzled  eyes,  she  remained  standing  before  that  new 
spectacle.  So  much  nobleness  of  form,  of  carriage,  and  ex- 
pression of  features,  I  had  never  found,  either  in  nature  or 
in  the  creations  of  painters  and  sculptors.  All  the  horrors 
of  the  preceding  moment  were  nearly  forgotten.  I  was  all 
eye  and  admiration.  The  young  beauty  moved  toward 
the  room  in  which  the  terrible  catastrophe  had  happened. 
When  she  got  sight  of  the  servants  she  stood  still,  and 
called  out  in  a  commanding  tone  of  voice  in  the  German 
language — "  Drive  away  that  rabble  there  !  "  One  of  the 
count's  servants  was  immediately  ready  to  obey  her  com- 
mands, and  he  did  it  with  so  much  uncivil  strictness,  that 
he  drove  every  one,  and  me  among  the  rest,  away  from  the 
passage  towards  the  stairs. 

"  If  there  ever  have  been  fairies  " — I  thought — "this  is 
one  of  them." 

Sebald  sat  in  the  bar-room,  pale  as  death. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  " — he  called  out  to  me — "  that  one  of 
us  would  have  to  die  ?  The  madonna,  or  rather  the  very 
devil,  ordained  it  so,  and  not  otherwise.  One  had  to  break 
his  neck,  and  the  other  had  to  burn  alive.  Your  most 
obedient  servant ;  to-morrow  I  take  my  leave  ;  if  I  do  not, 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


289 


it  may  be  my  turn  next.  Whosoever  is  wise,  like  myself, 
will  not  go  straight  to  hell.  In  Italy,  they  say,  even  the 
mountains  throw  out  fire.  God  prevent  me  from  ever 
coming  near  one.  I  should  certainly  be  the  first  whom 
Moloch  would  roast,  for  I  am  too  pious,  and  yet  at  all  hours, 
not  a  saint." 

I  spoke  to  him  about  the  young  lady ! 

"  That  was  she," — he  exclaimed — "that  was  the  coun- 
tess !  She  was  no  doubt  desirous  to  smell  the  burnt  dish. 
Fly  with  me  to-morrow  !  Your  dear  young  life  excites  my 
honest  pity  !  " 

"  Then  it  was  the  Countess  Hortensia,  whom  I  saw  ?  " 
was  my  rejoinder. 

4<  Who  else  could  it  be  ?  " — answered  Sebald — "  She  is 
handsome,  and  therefore  the  devil  has  become  enamoured 
of  her,  but—  " 

Here  Sebald  was  called  to  the  count.  He  walked,  or 
rather  tottered  away,  sighing  most  heavily. 

This  occurrence  alarmed  the  whole  house.  I  sat  upon 
a  bench  almost  a  stranger  to  myself,  amid  those  wonder- 
ful events. 

Long  after  midnight,  the  landlord  conducted  me  to  a 
small  bed-room. 


C  H  A  P  T  E  K  V. 
Antipathy. 

After  the  fatigues  of  that  eventful  day,  I  slept  soundly  till 
near  noon.  When  I  awoke,  the  events  of  the  day  before 
appeared  to  me  like  the  phantasms  of  a  fever,  or  like  the 
history  of  a  delirium  in  drunkenness.  I  could  scarcely  per- 
suade myself  of  the  truth  of  the  events,  nor  could  I  doubt 


290 


HORTENSIA  : 


them.  But  now  I  looked  upon  every  thing  with  a  clearer 
understanding.  I  wavered  not  a  moment  longer  to  keep 
my  word  with  Count  Hormegg.  My  fate  seemed  to  be  of 
so  novel  and  wonderful  a  kind,  that  I  followed  him  with 
pleasure  and  curiosity.  What  had  I  to  lose  in  Germany  ? 
What  anywhere  in  life  ?  What  could  I  risk  in  following 
the  count  ?  It  depended  on  myself  to  sever  the  thread  of 
the  romance,  whenever  its  length  should  be  vexatious. 

As  I  entered  the  bar-room,  I  found  it  filled  with  magis- 
trates, police-officers,  capuchins,  and  villagers  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood, who  had  assembled  either  officially  or  out  of 
mere  curiosity.  Not  one  among  them  doubted,  but  that 
the  burning  of  the  lady  was  the  work  of  the  devil.  Al- 
though the  count  had  the  remains  of  the  unfortunate  lady 
buried  by  his  own  people,  yet  in  accordance  with  the 
judgment  of  the  capuchins,  the  whole  house  had  to  be  ex- 
orcised, in  order  to  cleanse  it,  by  those  means,  from  the 
last  traces  of  the  evil  one.  That  was  a  great  expense. 
They  spoke  of  arresting  us  and  bringing  us  before  a  court 
of  justice.  A  dispute  arose,  whether  we  should  be  deliv- 
ered into  the  hands  of  a  civil  or  an  ecclesiastical  court. 
Most  of  the  votes  were  for  conducting  us  to  Udine  before 
the  archbishop. 

The  count,  unable  to  converse  in  Italian,  was  glad  when  he 
saw  me.  In  vain  he  had  offered  to  liquidate  the  costs  occa- 
sioned by  this  extraordinary  event,  by  a  handsome  sum  of 
money.  He  then  requested  me  to  settle  the  difficulty  with 
those  people  in  his  name. 

I  walked  immediately  up  to  the  capuchins  and  magis- 
trates, and  explained  to  them,  that  hitherto  I  had  actually 
been  as  little  connected  with  the  strangers,  as  they  them- 
selves ;  and  gave  them  two  points  to  consider.  First : — 
That  the  misfortune  of  the  fire  had  either  occurred  very 
naturally,  at  least  without  the  count's  taking  part  in  it : 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


[291 


in  that  case,  by  arresting  so  noble  a  gentleman  they  might 
involve  themselves  in  great  trouble  ; — or  secondly  : — The 
count  was  really  in  league  with  evil  spirits,  in  which 
case,  out  of  revenge,  he  might  play  them,  their  cloister,  or 
their  village,  a  mischievous  trick.  It  would  be  most  ad- 
visable to  take  the  count's  money,  and  let  him  go  on  his 
way ;  thus,  they  need  not  fear  either  responsibility  or  re- 
venge, and  in  either  case  they  would  be  the  gainers.  My 
reasoning  was  effectual.  The  money  was  paid.  We 
received  our  horses,  and  rode  off.    The  clouds  dispersed. 

The  countess  with  her  waiting  maids  and  the  other  ser- 
vants had  started  several  hours  before  us.  The  count  only 
with  one  servant  had  remained  behind.  On  the  way,  he 
commenced  speaking  of  the  horrible  event  of  the  pre- 
ceding night. — "  His  daughter  " — he  said — "  had  been  much 
affected  by  it.  She  had  suffered  for  several  hours  cramps 
and  convulsions  ;  then  she  had  fallen  into  a  gentle  sleep, 
and  on  awaking  exhibited  great  composure  ;  but  demanded 
instantly  to  leave  the  house  of  misfortune." 

Probably  in  order  to  prepare  me  for  my  future  condi- 
tion, he  added  : — "  I  must  indulge  the  sick  child  in  many 
whims,  and  forgive  her  many  things.  She  is  invincibly 
obstinate.  Every  contradiction,  through  her  extraordinary 
sensibility,  excites  her  to  anger,  and  a  little  offence  suffices 
to  cause  her  suffering  for  several  days.  I  informed  her  of 
your  arrival.  She  listened  to  me  with  great  indifference. 
I  asked  her  if  I  should  introduce  you  to  her  ?  Her  answer 
was — '  Do  you  think  me  so  very  curious  ?  There  will  be 
time  enough,  when  we  are  in  Venice  !  ' — I  am  however  of 
the  opinion,  that  on  our  way  we  shall  find  plenty  of  oppor- 
tunities. Let  not  the  caprices  of  my  daughter  offend  you, 
Faust ;  she  is  sick  and  unfortunate,  and  we  must  treat  her 
with  great  forbearance,  if  we  do  not  wish  to  bring  her  to 
an  untimely  grave.    She  is  my  only  treasure,  my  last  joy 


292 


HORTENSIA  : 


on  this  earth.  The  death  of  the  Lady  Montluc  in  reality 
does  not  much  affect  her,  for  of  late  she  had  begun  to  feel 
a  disaffection  for  her  ;  from  what  cause,  I  know  not.  She 
may  have  felt  disgusted  with  her  propensity  for  strong 
drinks.  Doctor  Walter  asserts,  that  this  propensity  had 
caused  the  spontaneous  combustion  in  the  lady,  who  other- 
wise was  a  very  excellent  woman,  and  much  attached  to 
my  daughter  and  myself.  He  also  told  me  of  several  ex- 
amples of  spontaneous  combustion,  by  which  human  bodies 
in  a  few  moments  were  consumed. — Such  cases  can  how- 
ever but  very  rarely  happen.  He  endeavoured  to  explain 
to  me  that  phenomenon  in  a  very  natural  manner.  I  under- 
stood and  comprehended  nothing  of  it.  I  only  know,  that 
this  flaming  door  of  death  is  most  terrific." 

Thus  spoke  the  count,  and  this  was  nearly  the  substance 
of  all  our  conversations  until  we  reached  Venice.  For 
the  young  countess,  notwithstanding  the  weak  state  of 
her  health  ;  notwithstanding  the  objections  her  father  and 
the  doctor  made  against  it ;  determined  at  once  to  proceed 
on  their  journey  to  Venice,  without  making  any  longer 
stoppages  than  their  nightly  rest  required.  Therefore  I  was 
not  introduced  to  her.  On  the  contrary,  I  had  to  keep  my- 
self at  a  considerable  distance,  without  enjoying  the  hap- 
piness of  pleasing  her. 

The  countess  was  carried  in  her  litter.  Servants  walk- 
ed on  foot  beside  it.  The  ladies  rode  in  a  separate  car- 
riage ;  so  did  the  count.  The  doctor  and  myself  were  on 
horseback. 

One  morning,  the  countess,  in  stepping  out  of  the  hotel  to 
mount  her  litter,  saw  me,  and  asked  the  doctor — "  Who  is 
this  man  that  is  for  ever  trotting  after  us?" 

"  Mr.  Faust,  noble  lady,"  replied  Walter. 

"  He  is  a  very  disagreeable  fellow  " — she  exclaimed — 
"  send  him  back  !  " 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


293 


"  You  yourself  desired  him !  Look  upon  him  as  the 
medicine  which  you  have  prescribed  for  yourself" — replied 
the  doctor. 

"  He  has  that  which  is  loathsome  in  common  with  every 
medicine  " — she  retorted. 

I  was  near  enough  to  hear  this  conversation,  not  by  any 
means  flattering,  and  which  almost  offended  me.  Had  the 
count  not  been  so  kind,  I  should  immediately  have  left  his 
whimsical  Venus  in  the  lurch.  I  will  not  assert  that  I  was 
handsome  ;  yet  I  was  not  personally  displeasing  to  the  la- 
dies. But  to  be  tolerated  as  a  loathsome  medicine  only, 
was  too  much  for  the  vanity  of  a  young  man,  who,  had  he 
been  a  prince  or  a  count,  would  not  have  hesitated  to  join 
the  admirers  of  Hortensia. 

The  countess  arrived  at  Venice  without  accident,  and 
her  medicine  followed  obediently  after  her.  We  entered 
a  magnificent  palace  ;  and  in  it  I  received  my  separate 
apartments  and  servant.  Count  Hormegg  lived  in  great 
style  ;  as  among  the  nobles  of  Venice  he  had  many  friends. 

CHAPTER  VI. 
The  Revery. 

We  had  been  four  days  in  Venice,  when  one  afternoon  I 
was  called  in  great  haste  to  the  count's  presence. 

"My  daughter" — he  said — "has  asked  for  you.  To  be 
sure,  not  a  day  has  passed  without  her  having  her  usual 
trances  ;  but  only  to-day,  and  for  the  first  time,  has  she 
craved'  your  presence.  Come  with  me  to  her  room,  but 
softly.  Every  noise  throws  her  into  dangerous  convulsions." 

"  But  what  will  you  have  me  to, do  1 "  I  asked  with  secret 
tremor. 

"  Who  can  know  it  ?  Expect  it  from  the  future.  May 
God  guide  everything ! "  replied  Hormegg. 


294 


HORTENSIA  : 


We  entered  a  large  room,  hung  around  with  green  silk- 
en tapestry.  Two  waiting-maids  leaned  silently  and  tim- 
orously against  the  window.  The  doctor  sat  upon  a  sofa, 
observing  the  patient.  She  however  stood  nearly  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  with  closed  eyes  ;  one  of  her  arms  was 
hanging  at  her  side,  while  the  other  arm  was  half-elevated, 
fixed,  and  immovable,  like  a  statue.  Only  the  heaving  of  her 
bosom  betrayed  life.  The  solemn,  death-like  stillness  that 
reigned  there,  and  the  tragic  form  of  Hortensia,  to  whom 
all  eyes  were  directed,  filled  me  with  an  involuntary,  yet 
agreeable  trembling. 

As  soon  as  I  entered  that  quiet  apartment,  the  countess 
said,  without  opening  her  eyes,  and  without  altering  her 
position,  with  a  voice  of  indescribable  sweetness — "At 
last,  oh,  Immanuel !  Why  remainest  thou  so  far  in  the  dis- 
tance ?  Oh  come  hither,  and  bless  her,  that  she  may  re- 
cover from  her  sufferings." 

At  this  address,  of  which  I  knew  not  that  it  was  directed 
to  me,  I  probably  made  a  very  foolish  appearance.  The 
count  and  the  doctor  beckoned  to  me  to  approach  nearer, 
and  by  gesticulation  made  me  understand,  that  like  a  Ro- 
man priest,  I  should  make  the  sign  of  the  cross  towards  her, 
or  lay  my  hands  upon  her  as  if  blessing  her. 

I  drew  nearer,  and  lifted  my  hands  above  her  head,  and 
then  suffered  my  hands  slowly  to  fall  again.  Hortensia's 
countenance  seemed  to  betray  displeasure.  Again  I  lifted 
my  hands  and  held  them  outstretched  towards  her,  uncer- 
tain what  to  do.  Her  countenance  became  serene.  This 
induced  me  to  remain  in  that  position.  My  embarrassment 
however  was  augmented  when  the  countess  said — "  Imman- 
uel !  not  yet  is  it  thy  will  to  succour  her.  Oh  give  but  thy 
will,  thy  will !  Thou  art  mighty,  and  thy  will  can  accom- 
plish all." 

"  Gracious  countess  " — I  said — "  doubt  anything  rather 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


295 


than  my  will  to  help  you."  This  I  said  with  the  greatest 
sincerity.  I  felt  as  if  I  was  standing  before  an  ethereal 
being.  Never  had  I  seen  grace  and  sublimity  so  blended 
together.  Hortensia's  face,  as  I  had  hitherto  but  super- 
ficially and  from  a  distance  seen  it,  generally  was  pale,  as  if 
suffering  and  morose  ;  but  then  how  different !  An  uncom- 
monly fine  red  beamed  upon  her  countenance,  like  rose- 
coloured  reflection.  In  all  her  features  swam  a  light,  which 
man  in  common  life  can  neither  possess  by  nature,  nor  ob- 
tain by  art.  The  expression  of  the  whole  countenance  was 
solemn,  not  with  a  smile,  but  inward  tranquillity  or  trans- 
port. Imagine  in  addition  the  statue-like  position,  the  mar- 
ble calmness  in  the  expression  of  the  features,  and  the  eyes 
as  if  closed  in  sleep.  I  had  never  felt  as  I  did  then  such 
a  complex  agitation. 

"  Oh  Immanuel !  "  she  said,  after  a  pause — "  now  is  thy 
will  sincere.  Now  she  knows  that  thou  wilt  give  back  to  her 
her  health.  The  hair  upon  thy  head  flies  in  golden  flames 
— silver  rays  of  light  stream  forth  from  thy  fingers — thou 
floatest  in  a  serene  heavenly  blue.  Oh  !  how  eagerly  does 
her  whole  being  imbibe  this  splendour,  this  salutary  flood 
of  light!" 

This  somewhat  poetical  manner  of  expression  brought 
involuntarily  the  "medicine"  to  my  mind,  to  which  I  had 
the  honour  of  being  compared  a  few  days  previous,  and  I 
mourned  in  silence,  that  I  could  not  discover  anything  of 
the  rays  of  gold  and  silver. 

"  Be  not  angry  with  her  in  your  thoughts,  Immanuel" — 
said  Hortensia.  "  Let  not  her  who  is  weak,  and  her  sickly 
wit  arouse  thine  anger,  for  likening  thee  to  bitter  medi- 
cines. Be  thou  more  noble  than  she  who  is  thoughtless, 
who  is  misled  by  pain,  and  who  is  often  by  earthly  imbe- 
cility given  over  almost  to  distraction." 

The  doctor,  at  those  words,  cast  a  smiling  glance  at  me. 


296 


HORTENSIA  : 


I  returned  his  look  with  an  expression  of  astonishment,  not 
that  the  proud  beauty  condescended  to  make  an  apology, 
but  that  she  should  have  guessed  my  thoughts. 

"  Oh,  distract  not  thy  attention,  Immanuel !  "  said  Hor- 
tensia.  "  Thou  speakest  with  the  doctor.  Turn  thy  whole 
mind  to  her  and  to  her  preservation.  It  is  painful  when 
thy  thoughts  swerve  from  her  but  for  a  moment.  Continue 
firm  in  thy  determination  to  suffer  the  light  of  thy  benefi- 
cent power  to  penetrate  her  whole  half-decomposed  being. 
Behold  the  strength  of  thy  will !  The  chilled  fibres  soften 
and  melt,  like  the  rime  of  winter  at  the  first  warming  glance 
of  sunshine." 

As  she  spoke  this,  her  raised  arm  fell.  Motion  and  life 
appeared  in  her  frame.  She  asked  for  an  arm-chair.  The 
doctor  brought  her  one  of  those  that  stood  in  the  room, 
with  costly  embroidered  bolsters.  "  Not  such  a  one  " — she 
said — and  after  awhile  she  continued  :  "  That  arm-chair, 
which  is  covered  with  striped  linen,  and  stands  in  Im- 
manuel's  room  before  his  writing-desk,  bring  that  one  al- 
ways !  " 

I  had  actually  left  the  chair  standing  before  the  writing- 
desk,  but  the  countess  had  never  seen  my  room.  When 
handing  to  one  of  the  waiting  maids  the  key  of  my  room, 
Hortensia  said — "  Was  that  the  key  ?  I  did  not  know  what 
that  dark  spot  was.  Thou  hast  in  the  left  pocket  of  thy 
vest  another  key,  put  it  away  from  thee."  I  did  it.  It  was 
the  key  to  my  closet. 

As  soon  as  the  chair  was  brought,  she  seated  herself  in 
it  with  seeming  gratification.  She  commanded  me  to  stand 
close  before  her,  with  both  hands  outstretched  towards  her, 
and  the  fingers  in  the  direction  of  the  heart. 

"  O  God  !  of  what  bliss  is  man  capable  !  "  she  said — 
"  Immanuel,  give  her  thy  word,  she  conjures  thee  ! — for- 
sake her  not,  until  the  derangement  within  is  removed,  and 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


297 


her  cure  completed.  Shouldst  thou  forsake  her,  she  would 
miserably  perish.    On  thee  hangs  her  life." 

I  promised  to  be  the  preserver  and  guardian  of  so  pre- 
cious a  life.  "  Heed  it  also  not  " — she  continued — "  if  in 
the  state  of  her  earthly  waking,  she  should  deal  unjustly 
with  thee.  Forgive  her,  for  she  is  unfortunate  ;  and  knows 
not  what  she  does.  All  vices  are  sicknesses  of  mortal  man, 
and  lame  is  the  power  of  the  mind." 

She  became  talkative,  and  seemed  to  listen  to  my  ques- 
tions with  pleasure.  I  expressed  my  astonishment  at  her 
extraordinary  condition.  I  had  never  heard,  I  said,  that 
sickness  could  make  man,  as  it  were,  more  perspicacious, 
capable  to  behold  with  closed  eyes  what  he  had  never 
seen,  and  what  was  far  distant,  and  even  to  know  the 
thoughts  of  another.  I  should  rather  believe  that  your 
state,  which  is  in  truth  like  a  trance,  is  the  most  perfect 
state  of  health. 

After  a  short  silence — for  such  always  preceded  her 
answers — she  said,  "  She  is  healthy,  like  one  dying,  whose 
parts  threaten  to  fall  asunder.  She  is  healthy,  as  she  shall 
be,  when  that  which  is  mortal  hath  ceased  to  be,  and  the 
body  breaks  ;  this  earthly  lamp  of  immortal  light." 

"  This  entranced  change  " — -I  said — "  leaves  all  dark 
to  me." 

"  Dark,  Immanuel  ?  But  thou  wilt  understand  it  She 
knows  much,  and  yet  cannot  speak  of  it.  She  sees  much 
distinctly,  much  imperfectly,  and  yet  cannot  describe  it. 
Man  is  joined  together  of  various  beings  ;  they  bind  and 
form  themselves  together,  as  it  were,  round  a  single  point ; 
and  this  makes  him  man.  Thus  are  all  the  small  parts  of 
a  flower  held  together,  whereby  it  becomes  a  flower.  One 
holds  and  binds  the  other,  one  limits  the  other.  So  neither 
of  them  could  stand  alone,  for  all  of  them  together  can  only 
form  man.  Nature  is  like  an  unlimited  ocean  of  clearness,  in 
14 


298 


IIOKTENSIA  .* 


which  the  single  denser  points  draw  themselves  together. 
Those  are  the  created  beings.  Or  like  the  wide  radiant 
heaven,  in  which  drops  of  light  condense  into  stars.  All 
that  is  in  the  world  is  condensed  out  of  that  which  is  dis- 
solved ;  and  those  condensed  bodies  are  everywhere,  and 
absorb  always  more,  and  for  that  reason  again  dissolve 
themselves  in  every  thing,  as  they  cannot  endure.  Thus 
man  is  a  flower,  swimming  about,  and  grown  up  out  of 
various  beings  of  the  universe.  But  that  he  may  be  man, 
inferior  things  had  to  lay  themselves  about  him,  which 
must  carry  that  of  him  which  is  divine.  But  the  strange 
things  that  lay  themselves  about  us,  form  the  body.  The 
more  heavenly  body  is  called  the  soul.  But  the  soul  is 
the  covering  of  that  which  is  immortal.  Now  the  earthly 
shell  of  the  sufferer  is  broken,  therefore  her  light  streams 
forth,  her  soul  connects  itself  with  objects,  from  which  it 
was  before  separated  by  the  earthly  shell,  and  sees  and 
hears  and  feels  that  which  is  without  the  same,  and  that 
which  is  within  the  same.  For  the  body  feels  not,  it  is 
only  a  dead  supporter  of  the  soul.  Without  it,  eye,  ear 
and  tongue  are  like  a  stone.  If  now  the  earthly  shell  of 
the  sufferer  cannot  recover  through  thee,  Immanuel — then 
it  will  entirely  break  and  fall  away.  Then  the  sufferer 
belongs  no  longer  to  men,  as  she  will  possess  nothing  hu- 
man through  which  to  communicate  with  them." 

She  was  silent.  I  listened,  as  if  she  brought  revelations 
from  other  worlds.  I  did  not  understand  any  tiring,  yet  I 
felt  what  she  thought.  The  count  and  the  doctor  listened 
to  her  with  equal  astonishment.  Both  afterwards  assured 
me,  that  Hortensia  had  never  before  spoken  so  serenely, 
so  perseveringly,  and  as  it  were,  so  ethereally  as  she  did 
then  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  that  she  had  always  uttered 
broken  sentences  ;  often  in  pain,  and  often  she  had  fallen 
into  convulsions,  or  laid  for  several  hours  in  a  torpid  state. 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


299 


She  also  but  very  seldom  had  answered  questions.  But 
now  conversation  seemed  not  at  all  to  fatigue  her. 

I  reminded  her  of  her  weakness,  and  asked  her  if  long 
talking  did  not  exhaust  her  strength.  She  assured  me : — 
"  Not  at  all.  She  is  well.  She  will  ever  be  well,  when 
thou  art  near.  In  seven  minutes  she  will  awake.  She  will 
pass  a  tranquil  night,  but  to-morrow,  at  the  third  hour  after 
noon,  her  sleep  will  return  ;  then  do  not  fail,  Immanuel !  at 
five  minutes  before  three  o'clock,  convulsions  will  appear ; 
then  outstretch  thy  hand  in  blessing  towards  her,  with  the 
full  determination  to  become  her  deliverer.  Five  minutes 
before  three,  by  the  mantel  clock  in  thy  room,  not  by  thy 
watch,  which  differs  from  the  clock  three  minutes.  Set  it 
carefully  by  the  clock,  that  the  patient  may  not  suffer  on 
that  account." 

She  spoke  of  various  things  of  less  consequence,  ordered 
what  drink  should  be  given  her  after  her  waking,  and  what 
she  wished  for  her  supper.  Then  she  became  silent.  The 
previous  death-like  stillness  reigned,  until  her  face  be- 
came pale  as  it  usually  was,  and  the  life  of  her  expressive 
countenance  then  vanished.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  she 
seemed  actually  to  be  in  sleep.  She  held  herself  no  longer 
erect,  but  fell  negligently  together,  and  nodded  with  her 
head,  like  sleeping  persons  do.  Then  she  commenced  ex- 
tending her  arms,  and  stretching  herself.  She  rubbed  her 
eyes,  opened  them,  and  awoke  at  the  same  minute  that  she 
had  predicted. 

When  she  saw  me,  she  seemed  surprised.  She  looked 
for  the  others.  The  waiting-maid  ran  towards  her,  and  so 
did  the  count,  with  the  doctor. 

"  What  is  your  wish  1 " — she  asked  me  in  a  harsh  voice. 

"  Gracious  countess,  I  await  your  commands  " — I  said. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  " — she  inquired. 

"  Faust,  at  your  service  " — was  my  reply. 


300 


HORTENSIA  ! 


"  I  am  much  beholden  to  you  for  your  good-will,  but  al- 
low me  to  be  alone  "  —  she  said,  rather  sullenly,  bowed 
her  head  proudly,  got  up  from  the  chair,  and  turned  her 
back  to  me. 

I  absented  myself  from  the  room  with  strangely-mixed 
sensations.  How  vastly  differed  that  waking  from  her 
sleep.  Vanished  were  the  rays  of  silver  and  gold,  vanish- 
ed was  the  familiar  "  Thou  "  which  she  addressed  so  deep- 
ly to  the  inmost  recesses  of  my  heart,  and  even  the  name 
Immanuel,  with  which  she  had  entitled  me,  was  no  longer 
of  any  value. 

I  entered  my  room  shaking  my  head  like  one  who  has 
read  and  lost  himself  in  fairy  tales,  and  who  still  believes 
reality  to  be  enchantment.  The  arm-chair  before  my 
writing-desk  was  missing.  I  placed  another  there,  wrote 
the  wondrous  tale  down  as  I  had  witnessed  it,  and  of  Hor- 
tensia's  words,  as  much  as  I  recollected,  for  I  doubted  my 
believing  it  myself,  if  I  had  it  not  in  writing  before  me.  I 
had  promised  to  forgive  all  harshness  she  should  show  to- 
ward me  while  waking.  Most  willingly  did  I  forgive  her. 
Only  her  being  so  beautiful — that  I  could  not  bear  with 
indifference. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Second  Revery. 

Count  Hormegg  on  the  next  day  visited  me  in  my  room, 
and  told  me  that  Hortensia  had  passed  a  very  tranquil 
night,  and  that  she  had  left  her  bed  stronger  and  more  re- 
freshed than  she  had  done  for  a  long  time.  "  At  breakfast" 
— he  said — "  I  told  her  of  all  that  had  occurred  yesterday. 
She  shook  her  head,  she  did  not  wish  to  believe  me,  and 
said,  4 1  must  surely  have  had  paroxysms  of  frenzy.'  She 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


301 


began  to  weep.  I  tranquillized  her,  and  told  her  this 
would  undoubtedly  bring  about  her  entire  restoration  ;  that 
you,  Faust,  were  most  certainly  possessed  of  a  wonder- 
working faculty,  hitherto  unknown  to  yourself.  I  requested 
her  also  to  suffer  you,  from  time  to  time,  to  keep  her  com- 
pany, as  I  promised  myself  much  benefit  from  your  being 
near  her  person.  But  to  this  I  could  not  persuade  her. 
She  assured  me  that  your  aspect  had  something  revolting 
to  her,  but  that  by  degrees,  perhaps,  she  might  get  used  to 
you.  What  shall  we  do  1  We  can  do  nothing  by  force 
without  endangering  her  life." 

Thus  he  endeavoured  to  make  excuses  for  Hortensia  in 
every  form.  He  bestowed  upon  me  heartfelt  confidence, 
as  it  were,  in  compensation  for  Hortensia's  insulting  dis- 
like, stubbornness  and  pride  ;  spoke  to  me  of  his  family  af- 
fairs, his  estates,  law-suits,  and  other  inconveniences,  ask- 
ed my  advice,  and  promised  to  give  me  all  his  papers  for 
my  perusal,  that  my  judgment  of  his  affairs  might  be  more 
precise.  Initiated  even  in  his  most  secret  affairs,  I  became 
daily  more  intimate  with  him,  and  his  friendship  toward 
me  seemed  to  increase  in  the  same  proportion  as  his 
daughter's  aversion.  I  conducted  at  last  his  whole  corres- 
pondence, had  the  superintendence  of  his  income,  and  the 
ordering  of  his  whole  domestic  affairs,  so  that  in  a  short  time 
I  became  his  all.  Convinced  of  my  honour  and  good-will, 
he  adhered  to  me  with  unlimited  confidence,  and  seemed 
only  to  become  irritable  when  he  perceived  that  I  did  not 
demand  for  myself  anything  except  what  I  absolutely  need- 
ed, and  firmly  refused  to  accept  of  any  of  his  donations. 

Dr.  Walter,  and  all  the  servants  of  the  house,  soon  dis- 
covered the  extraordinary  influence  that  I  had  obtained 
over  Count  Hormegg.  I  was  surrounded  with  flattery 
and  politeness,  and  felt  happy  at  their  general  affection. 
However,  I  would  gladly  have  sacrificed  all,  if  by  so  doing 


302 


HORTENSIA  : 


I  could  only  have  secured  the  tolerance  of  the  hostile 
countess  ;  but  she  remained  irreconcilable.  Her  disgust 
seemed  to  degenerate  almost  into  hatred.  She  cautioned 
her  father  against  me,  as  a  cunning  adventurer  and  a  cheat ! 
She  spoke  to  her  maids  of  me,  as  an  impostor  only,  who 
had  insinuated  himself  into  her  father's  confidence,  until 
the  count  scarcely  dared  to  mention  my  name  in  her  pre- 
sence. 

Precisely  at  five  minutes  before  three  o'clock,  unan- 
nounced I  entered  Hortensia's  room.  All  the  witnesses  of 
the  previous  day  again  were  present.  She  sat  upon  the  sofa, 
pale,  and  apparently  suffering,  in  a  pensive  posture.  When 
she  discovered  me,  she  cast  a  proud,  contemptuous  look  at 
me,  rose  hastily,  and  exclaimed — "  Who  gave  you  permis- 
sion to  enter  without  announcement,  and —  " 

A  loud  shriek,  and  a  terrible  convulsion  choked  her 
voice.  She  sank  into  the  arms  of  her  waiting-maids. 
The  arm-chair  that  she  had  demanded  the  day  before  was 
brought.  She  was  scarcely  seated  in  it,  when  in  a  fright- 
ful manner,  with  clenched  fists,  and  with  incredible  velocity, 
she  began  to  strike  her  body,  and  likewise  her  head.  I 
could  hardly  endure  the  dreadful  sight.  Trembling  in 
every  limb,  I  took  my  prescribed  position.  But  with  her 
eyes  convulsively  turned  and  fixed,  she  caught  impetuously 
hold  of  my  hands,  and  pulled  them  several  times  with  great 
vehemence  toward  her.  She  soon  became  more  tranquil, 
shut  her  eyes,  and  seemed  to  fall  asleep,  after  having  heav- 
ed a  deep  sigh.  Her  face  betrayed  pain.  Frequently 
she  muttered  in  hollow  tones.  Her  pain  soon  seemed  to 
diminish.  She  only  heaved  a  few  gentle  sighs.  Her 
mien  became  more  serene,  and  speedily  represented  the 
expression  of  internal  peace,  while  over  the  paleness  of 
her  face  was  cast  a  soft  red. 

After  the  lapse  of  a  few  minutes  she  said — "  Thou 


ASLEEP   AND  AWAKE. 


303 


trusty  friend,  what  should  I  be  without  thee  ?  "  She  spoke 
these  few  words  with  solemn  tenderness,  Her  tones  vi- 
brated in  all  my  nerves. 

"  Do  you  feel  well,  countess  ?  " — I  asked  in  a  low  tone 
of  voice,  for  I  feared  that  she  would  again  point  to  me  the 
door. 

"  Ver}'  well,  Immanuel  " — she  responded.  "  As  well  as 
yesterday ;  perhaps  more  so.  But  thy  will  to  succour, 
seems  more  determined,  and  thy  power  greater.  She 
breathes  within  the  radiant  circle  that  waves  around  thee, 
and  her  being  is  wrapt  up  with  thine  I  " 

To  us  prosaic  hearers  this  platonic  manner  of  expres- 
sion was  very  unintelligible  ;  to  me,  however,  it  was  not 
disagreeable.  I  only  regretted  that  Hortensia  meant  not 
me,  but  an  imaginary  Immanuel,  and  so  probably  deceived 
herself.  Yet  it  was  some  consolation  to  me,  when  I  after- 
wards heard  from  the  count,  that  to  his  knowledge  there 
had  never  been  any  one,  among  all  her  relatives  and  ac- 
quaintances, who  had  borne  that  name. 

When  her  father  addressed  to  her  a  question,  she  did 
not  hear  him  ;  for  in  the  midst  of  his  address  she  spoke 
to  me.  He  therefore  came  nearer.  When  he  stood  be- 
side me  she  became  more  attentive.  "How,  my  dear 
father,  are  you  here  too?"  Then  she  also  answered  his 
questions.  When  I  asked  her — "  Why  did  you  not  before 
notice  him  ?  " — -she  replied  :  "  He  stood  in  the  dark ;  with 
thee  only  is  light.  Thou  also  shinest,  my  father,  but  less 
brilliantly  than  Immanuel,  and  only  in  the  reflection  of 
him."  When  I  told  her  there  were  more  persons  in  the 
room,  she  was  silent  for  a  long  time,  and  named  afterwards 
every  one,  and  also  the  place  where  they  were  seated  or 
standing.  Her  eyes,  however,  were  always  closed,  and  yet 
she  noted  precisely  what  was  done  behind  her.  She  men- 
tioned even  the  number  of  persons  who  sailed  by  the 


304 


HORTEXSIA  : 


palace  in  a  gondola  on  the  canal,  and  never  was  mis- 
taken. 

"  But  how  is  it  possible  for  you  to  know  this  ?  " — I  said. 
"  You  do  not  see  it !  " 

"  Did  she  not  declare  to  thee  that  she  is  sick  1  That  it 
is  not  her  body  which  observes  the  outer  world,  but  her 
soul  ?  Flesh  and  blood  and  the  structure  of  the  bones 
are  only  a  shell,  which  encircles  the  noble  kernel.  But 
now  the  shell  is  torn,  and  the  vital  power  of  the  same  sup- 
plies what  is  wanting,  but  has  not  the  power  to  do  it  without 
assistance.  The  spirit  therefore  desires  thee ;  and  the 
soul,  gushing  forth  into  the  universe  and  feeling  about 
therein,  finds  thee,  and  fills  itself  with  thy  power.  During 
her  earthly  waking,  she  sees,  hears,  feels  quicker  and  more 
acutely,  but  only  the  exterior,  that  which  is  near,  that 
which  approaches  her.  But  now  she  comes  in  contact 
with  things  that  she  wishes  for  and  does  not  wish  for.  She 
touches  not,  she  penetrates  not,  she  conjectures  not,  she 
knows  not.  In  thy  dreams,  thou  also  approachest  to  things, 
they  come  not  to  thee.  Thou  knowest  them,  and  know- 
est  why  they  do  so.  She  now  also  feels  as  in  a  dream  ; 
yet  she  well  knows  that  she  is  awake,  but  her  body  is  not 
awake,  for  the  outer  senses  assist  her  not." 

She  then  spoke  a  great  deal  about  her  sickness,  and  her 
somnambulisms  ;  of  a  long  swoon  in  which  she  once  had 
lain,  of  what  had  passed  in  her  soul,  and  what  she  had 
thought,  while  those  who  stood  around  wept  for  her  as  if  she 
were  dead.  Count  Hormegg  heard  her  narrative  with  sur- 
prise ;  for  beside  many  circumstances  which  he  had  not 
known,  she  touched  upon  others  which  had  happened  during 
her  swoon  often  hours'  continuance,  and  of  which  no  one 
besides  himself  could  possibly  know  any  thing — for  ex 
ample,  how  he  hopelessly  walked  away  from  her,  how  in  his 
room  he  fell  on  his  knees,  and  prayed  in  painful  despair.  He 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


305 


had  not  mentioned  it  to  any  one,  and  no  one  could  have  ob- 
served him ;  for  not  only  did  he  bolt  the  door  of  his  room,  but 
it  was  also  dark  at  night,  and  in  his  room  there  was  no  light. 
Now  when  Hortensia  disclosed  it,  he  did  not  deny  it.  It 
remains  incomprehensible,  that  in  her  swoon  she  should 
have  known  of  it,  still  more  so  that  she  should  now  re- 
member it,  since  that  occurrence  happened  in  her  early 
childhood,  when  she  was  not  more  than  eight  years  of 
age. 

It  was  also  remarkable,  that  she  always  spoke  of  herself 
in  the  third  person,  when  detailing  her  own  history,  or 
describing  her  own  position  in  civil  and  social  life.  Once 
she  said,  emphatically  :  "  I  am  no  countess,  but  she  is 
countess  !  "  At  another  time — "  I  am  not  the  daughter  of 
Count  Hormegg,  but  she  is." 

In  proportion  as  her  exterior  seemed  to  float  in  enchant- 
ment, more  tranquil,  more  elevated,  and  more  attractive 
than  usual,  so  did  her  words  harmonize  with  it.  If  her 
language  was  ever  so  light  and  hilarious,  it  was  still  more 
solemn  than  in  common  life.  Every  expression  was  more 
choice,  and  sometimes  poetical.  Partly  from  this,  and 
partly  from  her  elevated  imagination,  and  partly  that  she 
spoke  of  things  and  conceived  them  from  points  of  view 
which  were  unknown  to  us,  there  was  a  mysterious  dark- 
ness in  her  words  that  frequently  appeared  to  be  totally 
disconnected. 

Moreover,  she  was  fond  of  talking  and  of  being  ques- 
tioned, particularly  by  myself.  At  times  she  would  con- 
tinue in  a  silent,  pensive  mood,  and  one  might  read  in  her 
features  the  expression  either  of  a  discontented  or  of  satis- 
fied research,  or  of  estrangement,  or  of  delight.  Then 
she  would  occasionally  break  her  deep  silence  with  single 
devout  exclamations. 

Once  she  commenced  of  her  own  accord — "  Now  the 
14* 


306 


HORTENSIA  : 


world  is  different.  It  is  a  great  and  everlasting  and  spir- 
itual unity.  There  is  no  difference  between  body  and 
spirit,  for  all  is  spirit ;  and  all  may  become  body  when  it 
unites,  so  that  it  may  be  felt  as  one.  As  if  formed  by  the 
purest  breath  of  ether,  it  is  all  alive  and  moving,  all  chang- 
ing, since  all  will  unite,  although  one  dissolves  the  other.  It 
is  an  everlasting  turmoil  of  life,  an  eternal  wavering  between 
too  much  and  too  little  !  See  you  not  how  clouds  appear  on 
the  purest  horizon  ?  They  float  and  wave  about  until  their 
measure  is  filled,  and  being  attracted  by  the  earth,  they 
penetrate  it  either  as  fire  or  as  rain.  See  you  not  yon 
flower  ?  Behold  !  a  spark  of  life  has  fallen  into  the  throng 
of  the  other  powers  ;  it  connects  itself  with  all  that  are  to 
serve  it,  gives  them  form,  and  the  germ  becomes  a  plant  ; 
until  the  too  much  of  the  serving  power  overgrows  and  dis- 
possesses its  own  strength.  And  when  the  spark  is  re- 
pelled by  them,  they  fall  asunder,  as  nothing  binds  them 
any  longer  together.  Thus  is  the  beginning  and  the  pass- 
ing away  of  man." 

'  She  spoke  of  many  other  topics,  to  me  perfectly  unin- 
telligible. Her  entrancement  ended  as  it  did  on  the  first 
occasion.  She  again  predicted  the  exact  time  of  her 
earthly  waking,  and  likewise  the  appearance  of  a  similar 
state  for  the  following  day.  As  soon  as  she  had  opened 
her  eyes,  she  gave  me  my  dismission  as  she  did  the  first 
time,  with  the  same  morose  expression  of  countenance. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Antipathy  and  Sympathy. 

Thus  Hortensia  remained.  But  in  her  singular  malady, 
slight  changes  only  were  perceptible,  of  which  I  could  not 
assert  that  they  tended  either  to  improve  her  condition,  or 
to  make  it  worse.    Although  she  suffered  lees  from  her 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


307 


convulsive  fits  ;  and  when  awake  seemed  not  to  feel  the 
least  inconvenience,  exclusive  of  her  extraordinary  and 
most  excitable  nervousness  ;  yet  her  unnatural  sleep  and 
entranced  seasons  returned  more  frequently,  so  that  I  was 
often  called  twice  or  three  times  daily  to  see  her. 

Thus  I  became  a  real  slave  in  the  house  ;  and  never 
dared,  except  for  a  few  hours,  ^>  absent  myself  from  it. 
Every  negligence  might  ha,re  been  followed  by  a  deadly 
peril.  Nevertheless,  I  carried  the  yoke  of  slavery  willingly! 
for  every  day  Hortensia  appeared  to  be  clothed  with  greater 
charms. 

But  in  the  same  proportion  as  in  her  trances,  her  kind- 
ness seemed  to  increase,  so  was  her  aversion  to  my  person 
avowed,  when  she  saw  me  as  soon  as  she  awoke.  This 
dislike  seemed  at  last  to  become  bitter  detestation.  She 
manifested  it  on  every  occasion,  and  always  in  a  manner 
to  me  most  painful.  She  besought  her  father  daily,  and 
most  urgently,  to  dismiss  me  from  the  house.  She  conjured 
him  with  tears  to  exclude  me.  She  asserted  that  I  could 
not  contribute  any  thing  to  her  convalescence,  and  even  if 
I  could,  all  the  good  I  might  accomplish  during  her  state  of 
insensibility  was  destroyed  by  the  chagrin  that  my  presence 
afterwards  caused  her.  She  despised  me  as  a  common 
stroller,  and  as  a  man  too  base  born  to  be  allowed  to 
breathe  the  same  air  with  her,  much  less  to  enjoy  such  an 
intimate  position  with  herself,  and  Count  Hormegg's  entire 
confidence. 

We  all  know  that  females,  and  particularly  those  who 
are  handsome,  spoiled  and  stubborn,  have  their  caprices, 
and  readily  extenuate  their  waywardness.  But  never  was 
found  in  any  mortal  being  a  more  fickle  contrariness,  than  in 
the  beautiful  Hortensia.  What  she  had  thought,  spoken,  or 
done  when  awake,  she  recalled  in  the  moments  of  her 
entranced  sleep.    Then  she  implored  the  count  not  to  pay 


303 


HORTENSIA  : 


the  least  attention  to  any  thing  she  might  accuse  me  of; 
and  declared  that  the  certain  consequence  of  my  absence 
from  the  house  would  be  an  increase  of  her  sickness,  end- 
ing with  death.  Moreover,  she  entreated  me  not  to  regard 
her  humours  ;  generously  to  forgive  her  foolish  conduct ; 
and  to  abide  in  the  conviction  that  her  behaviour  towards 
me  would  surely  become  better,  when  her  morbid  sensi- 
bilities had  vanished. 

At  times  I  could  not  indeed  help  being  astonished  at 
Hortensia's  pretended  affection  for  me  during  the  time  of 
her  dreamy  transports.  She  seemed  then  only  to  exist 
through  me.  She  divined  my  thoughts,  particularly  when 
they  referred  to  herself.  It  was  not  necessary  to  speak 
aloud  my  few  directions  ;  she  executed  them  without  the 
verbal  injunction.  Incredible  as  it  may  appear,  she  in- 
voluntarily followed  in  every  figure,  the  motion  of  my  hands 
with  her  own.  She  attested  that  it  was  unnecessary  any 
more  to  stretch  my  hands  as  formerly  towards  her  ;  my 
presence  and  my  mere  will  sufficed  for  her  consolation. 
She  disdained  taking  any  water  which  I  had  not  touched — 
and  as  she  wildly  expressed  herself,  which  had  not  been 
made  wholesome  by  the  flood  of  light  that  streamed  from  the 
ends  of  my  fingers.  She  went  even  so  far  as  to  declare 
that  the  least  of  my  wishes  was  to  her  an  irresistible 
commandment. 

"  She  has  no  longer  a  will  of  her  own,"  she  said  one 
day,  "  as  soon  as  she  knows  thy  will  she  is  compelled  to 
wish  the  same.  Thy  thought  sways  her  with  supernatural 
power ;  and  even  in  this  obedience  she  feels  her  welfare 
and  her  happiness.  She  can  do  nought  against  it.  No 
sooner  does  she  perceive  thy  thoughts,  than  they  are  also 
her  thoughts  and  her  law  !  " 

"  But  how  is  it  possible  for  you,  countess,  to  detect  my 
thoughts  ?  " — I  said — "  I  cannot  deny  that  you  often  read 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


309 


the  most  hidden  secrets  of  my  soul.  What  a  singnlar  dis- 
order is  this !  which  gives  you  such  penetration.  Who 
would  not  desire  such  an  attribute,  when  disease  generally 
brings  a  state  of  our  greatest  imperfection?  " 

"  Thus  it  is  also  with  her  !  " — she  said — "  Deceive  not 
thyself,  Immanuel,  she  is  very  imperfect,  as  she  has  lost  the 
greater  part  of  her  substantiality.  She  has  lost  it  by  thee. 
Thy  serenity  is  her  serenity,  and  thy  suffering  is  her  suffer- 
ing, and  her  last  breath  would  instantly  follow  thy  decease." 

"But  can  you  explain  to  me,  countess,"  I  inquired,  "the 
possibility  of  a  wonder  which  excites  in  me  the  deepest 
astonishment,  and  remains  unintelligible  to  me  after  all  my 
reflections  1 " 

She  was  silent  for  about  eight  minutes  ;  then  she  said — 
"  No.  Explain  it,  she  cannot.  Does  it  not  seem  to  thee, 
when  thou  dreamest  of  persons,  as  if  thou  didst  think  their 
thoughts  in  the  same  moment  as  the  persons  themselves  ? 
Thus  it  is  with  her,  and  yet  the  sufferer  lives  with  a  clear 
understanding,  and  conscious  to  herself  that  she  is  awake." 

"However" — she  continued — "her  1  is  for  ever  the 
same.  But  that  which  connects  the  spirit  with  the  body  is 
no  more  the  same.  Her  covering  is  sore  in  those  parts, 
to  which  the  soul  most  readily  and  closely  joins  itself.  Her 
life  flows  out  and  becomes  weaker,  and  will  not  be  bound. 
Hadst  thou,  Immanuel,  not  been  found,  the  sufferer  already 
would  have  been  dissolved.  But  like  the  uprooted  plant, 
whose  powers  evaporate  without  finding  restitution,  yet, 
when  its  roots  are  again  laid  into  the  ground,  it  draws  new 
life  from  the  earth,  shoots  new  branches,  and  again  becomes 
green  :  so  the  sufferer. — Soul  and  life  flowing  into  the  uni- 
verse find  nourishment  in  the  fulness  of  thy  life  ;  shoot,  as 
it  were,  roots  in  thy  presence,  and  regain  their  health 
through  thee.  She  is  a  light  becoming  extinguished  in  a 
broken  vase  ;  but  the  drained  wick  of  life  revives  again 


310 


HORTENSIA  : 


in  the  oil  of  thy  lamp.  Thus  is  the  sufferer  spiritually 
rooted,  and  lives  by  the  same  power,  like  thyself ;  therefore 
are  her  joy,  pain,  sensations,  will,  and  even  thoughts,  like 
thine  own.    Thou  art  her  life  !  " 

The  waiting  maids  and  the  doctor  smiled  maliciously  at 
that  platonic  declaration. 

On  the  same  day  Count  Hormegg  said  to  me  : — "  Will 
you  not,  for  the  sake  of  a  little  amusement,  put  your  power 
over  Hortensia  to  the  strongest  test  ?  " 

"  And  how?  "—I  asked. 

"  Demand  as  an  evidence  of  her  obedience,  that  Horten- 
sia should  send  for  you,  when  she  is  awake,  and  present  to 
you,  voluntarily,  the  most  beautiful  rose  that  blooms  in  her 
flower-pots  " — answered  Hormegg. 

"  It  is  too  much,  it  would  be  rude  " — I  rejoined — "  you 
know  the  invincible  aversion  she  has  against  the  poor 
Faust ;  much  as  she  seems  to  honour  her  Immanuel. 

"  For  that  very  reason  I  request  you  to  make  the  trial ;  if  it 
were  only  to  discover  whether  the  power  of  her  will  is  strong 
enough  to  be  influenced  out  of  her  state  of  trance,  and  in 
her  common  life.  No  one  shall  inform  her  of  your  wish. 
Therefore,  we  will  arrange  it  so,  that  no  one  besides  you 
and  myself  shall  be  present,  when  you  make  the  request." 

I  reluctantly  promised  to  obey  her  father. 

CHAPTER  IX. 
The  Rose. 

On  the  following  morning,  while  Hortensia  was  lying  in  a 
slumber,  which  always  preceded  her  visionary  periods — I 
entered  her  room,  and  found  the  Count  alone.  He  re- 
minded me  of  our  agreement  on  the  preceding  day. 


ASLEEP   AND  AWAKE. 


311 


Hortensia  passed  into  her  unconscious  wakefulness,  and 
immediately  commenced  a  friendly  conversation.  She  as- 
sured us,  that  her  sickness  would  soon  be  at  the  crisis  ; 
when  it  would  slowly  decrease,  which  might  be  known  by 
her  having  less  lucid  perceptions  in  her  sleep.  The  more 
the  Count  beckoned  to  me  to  offer  my  request,  the  more 
embarrassed  I  became.  She  turned  unquietly  to  and  fro, 
with  contracted  brow,  and  seemed  to  be  musing  about 
herself. 

To  divert  myself,  or  to  gain  courage,  I  walked  silently 
through  the  room  to  the  window,  where  Hortensia's  flowers 
were  blooming,  and  handled  with  my  fingers  the  branches 
of  a  rose-bush.  In  my  negligence  I  stuck  a  thorn  rather 
deep  into  the  point  of  my  middle  finger. 

Hortensia  gave  a  loud  shriek.  The  count  and  I  hurried 
towards  her.  She  complained  of  a  severe  sting  in  the 
point  of  her  middle  finger  on  the  right  hand.  This  phe- 
nomenon was  one  of  the  sorceries  with  which  I  had  already 
become  familiar,  through  my  intercourse  with  her.  In  fact, 
I  thought  I  could  see  there  a  bluish  spot ;  but  in  a  few  days 
a  small  ulcer  arose  in  that  place,  precisely  like  one  that 
was  on  my  finger. 

"  Thou  art  to  blame — Immanuel  " — she  said  after  a  few 
moments.  "  Thou  hast  wounded  thyself  by  the  roses. 
Take  heed  !  what  happens  to  thee,  will  happen  to  her  !  " 

She  was  silent.  I  reflected  upon  the  manner  in  which 
I  might  best  present  my  petition.  The  wound  seemed  to 
offer  the  most  convenient  opportunity.  The  Count  beckon- 
ed to  me  with  encouragement. 

M  Why  wilt  thou  not  speak  it  out  " — said  Hortensia — 
"  that  to-day  at  twelve  o'clock,  before  she  goes  to  dine, 
she  should  send  for  thee,  and  present  thee  with  a  fresh 
blown  ro&e  ?  " 

With,  amazement  I  heard  my  wish  pronounced  by  her 


312 


HORTENSIA  : 


lips —  "  I  feared  to  offend  you  by  my  rudeness  !  " —  I 
said. 

"  Oh,  Immanuel,  she  knows  well  enough,  that  her  father 
has  suggested  the  wish  to  thee  !  " — she  replied,  smiling. 

"  But  at  the  same  time,  it  is  also  my  most  ardent  de- 
sire!"— I  stammered  forth — "But  will  you  at  twelve 
o'clock,  when  you  are  awake,  remember  it  also  1  " 

"  And  how  can  she  do  otherwise  ?  " — she  replied  with  a 
kind  smile. 

When  the  conversation  upon  that  subject  ceased,  the 
count  sent  for  the  waiting  maids  and  the  doctor.  I  absented 
myself  about  half  an  hour  afterward,  as  I  always  did,  when 
the  convulsive  fit  was  supplanted  by  natural  sleep. 

After  her  awaking,  Hortensia  showed  her  aching 
finger  to  the  doctor.  She  thought  she  had  hurt  it  by  the 
prick  of  a  needle,  and  was  astonished  not  to  discover  any 
outward  injury. 

About  eleven  o'clock,  she  became  restless,  walked  up 
and  down  the  room,  sought  for  various  things,  commenced 
speaking  with  her  waiting  maids  about  me,  or  rather  poured 
forth  the  fulness  of  her  ire  against  me,  and  assailed  her  fa- 
ther with  reproaches,  for  not  having  dismissed  me. 

"  That  obtrusive  man  is  not  worthy  the  words  and  tears 
I  have  wasted  on  him  " — she  said — "  I  also  know  not 
what  compels  me  to  think  of  him,  and  to  embitter  every 
hour  with  that  hateful  thought !  It  is  already  too  much 
for  me,  to  know  that  he  is  with  me  under  the  same  roof 
and  I  know,  dearest  father,  that  you  respect  him  very 
highly.  The  miserable  man  has  done  it  to  anger  me.  But 
take  heed,  my  father,  I  surely  do  not  deceive  myself.  You 
will  at  last  have  cause  greatly  to  regret  your  kindness.  He 
deceives  you,  and  all  of  us  !  " 

"  I  pray  you,  my  child  " — said  the  Count — "do  not  con- 
tinually torment  and  fatigue  yourself  with  talking  of  Faust. 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


313 


You  know  him  not.  You  have  seen  him  only  partially  ; 
how  then  can  you  pass  judgment  of  condemnation  upon 
him  ?  Wait !  till  I  surprise  him  in  a  guilty  action.  Mean- 
while be  of  comfort.  It  is  sufficient,  that  he  dare  not  come 
into  your  presence." 

Hortensia  was  silent.  She  spoke  with  her  maids  on  other 
subjects.  Her  restlessness  increased.  She  was  asked 
if  she  was  not  well  ?  She  knew  not  what  to  answer. 
She  began  to  weep.  It  was  useless  to  attempt  the  dis- 
covery of  the  cause  of  her  grief  and  melancholy.  She  hid 
her  face  in  the  bolsters  of  the  sofa,  and  requested  her  fa- 
ther, and  also  her  maids,  to  withdraw,  that  she  might  be 
alone. 

At  fifteen  minutes  before  twelve  o'clock  she  rang  the 
bell.  She  commanded  the  waiting-maid  to  let  me  know, 
that  at  the  stroke  of  twelve  I  must  present  myself  before  her. 

That  invitation,  notwithstanding,  I  had  been  looking  for 
it  with  anxiety,  surprised  me.  Partly  the  novelty  of  the 
circumstance  itself,  and  partly  fear  amazed  me  as  much 
as  it  embarrassed  me.  I  often  walked  before  the  glass,  to 
see  if  I  actually  had  a  face  calculated  to  awaken  fear.  But 
— it  struck  twelve !  I  went  with  a  loud  beating  heart,  and 
heard  myself  announced  to  Hortensia. 

She  sat  negligently  upon  her  sofa,  with  her  head  leaning 
upon  her  arm.  On  my  entering  she  arose,  with  manifest 
moroseness,  from  her  seat.  In  a  weak  and  trembling 
voice,  and  with  a  look,  that  implored  her  kindness,  I  de- 
clared my  readiness  to  do  her  bidding. 

Hortensia  did  not  answer.  Slowly  and  musing,  as  if 
seeking  for  words,  she  walked  past  me.  At  last  she  re- 
mained standing  before  me,  cast  a  contemptuous  side-look 
towards  me,  and  said — "  Mr.  Faust,  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to 
persuade  you  to  leave  this  house,  and  your  attendance  on 
my  father." 


314 


HORTENSIA  : 


"Countess" — I  said,  and  the  manly  pride  rose  a  little 
within  me  ; — "  I  did  not  force  myself  on  the  count  and 
yourself.  You  know,  from  what  causes  your  father  re- 
quested me  to  remain  in  his  company.  1  did  it  unwillingly  ; 
but  the  generosity  of  the  count,  and  the  hope  of  being  a 
benefit  to  yourself,  prevent  me  from  obeying  the  command- 
ment you  just  have  given,  however  painful  it  may  be  to  me 
to  act  in  opposition  to  your  pleasure." — She  turned  her 
back  to  me,  and  played  at  the  window,  beside  the  rose-bush, 
with  a  small  pair  of  scissors.  Suddenly  she  cut  off  the 
last-blown  rose — it  was  beautiful,  although  simple — handed 
it  to  me,  and  said : — "  Take  the  best  that  I  have  at  present 
near  me.  I  give  it  to  you  as  a  reward  for  your  having 
hitherto  avoided  me.    Never  more  return  !  " 

She  spoke  this  with  such  visible  agitation,  and  so  rapidly, 
that  I  scarcely  understood  it ;  again  she  returned  to  the 
sofa,  and  when  I  was  about  to  answer  with  averted  face, 
she  vehemently  made  motions  to  me  to  absent  myself. 

When  I  was  away  from  her,  I  forgot  her  insults.  Not 
the  angry,  but  the  suffering  Hortensia  floated  hefore  me. 
The  rose  had  come  from  her  hand.  I  pressed  the  flower 
to  my  lips  ;  and  deplored  the  perishableness  of  the  blos- 
som. I  deliberated  how  to  preserve  it  most  securely,  as 
the  most  valuable  of  all  my  possessions.  I  smoothed  it 
well,  and  laid  it  between  the  leaves  of  a  book  to  dry.  I 
then  had  it  laid  between  two  pieces  of  crystal  glass,  framed 
in  gold,  that  I  might  carry  it,  like  an  amulet,  next  to  my 
heart. 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


315 


CHAPTER  X. 

Bills  of  Exchange. 

In  the  result,  that  event  caused  me  great  inconvenience. 
Hortensia's  hate  from  that  time  was  more  decided  than 
ever.  Her  father  apologized  in  vain  !  His  conviction  of 
my  honour,  and  of  my  usefulness  in  the  affairs  of  his  house, 
and  his  firm  belief  that  I  was  necessary  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  his  daughter's  life  ;  all  were  reasons  strong  enough 
to  make  him  deaf  to  the  whisperings  that  aimed  at  my 
downfall.  Soon  he  was  the  only  person  in  the  whole  house 
who  deemed  me  worthy  of  a  friendly  word  or  look.  I  dis- 
covered by  degrees,  that  the  waiting  maids  and  Doctor 
Walter,  and  at  last,  even  the  lowest  servants,  timidly  avoid- 
ed me,  and  began  to  treat  me  with  coolness.  From  the 
trusty  Sebald,  who  really  loved  me,  I  learned  that  they 
aimed  at  my  expulsion,  and  that  the  countess  had  sworn  to 
drive  every  one  out  of  her  service  who  should  dare  to  hold 
any  intercourse  with  me.  Her  command  was  the  more 
effectual,  as  not  only  every  one,  from  the  family  physician 
and  major-domo,  down  to  the  lowest  scullion,  considered 
himself  fortunate  in  being  a  servant  of  this  rich  family ; 
but  also,  because  all  envied  the  respect  in  which  I  was  held 
by  the  count,  for  they  looked  upon  me,  in  reality,  as  nothing 
more  than  their  equal. 

Such  a  position  promised  to  become  most  disagreeable. 
I  lived  in  one  of  the  most  splendid  houses  in  Venice,  more 
lonely  than  in  a  desert,  without  a  friend,  and  without  con- 
fidential intercourse.  I  knew  that  every  one  of  my  move- 
ments was  watched ;  and  yet  I  bore  it  with  patience. 
The  count  suffered  by  Hortensia's  caprices,  not  less  than 


316 


HORTENSIA  : 


myself.  He  often  sought  consolation  from  me.  I  was  the 
most  eloquent  advocate  of  my  persecutor,  who  treated 
me  during  her  trances  with  just  as  much  regard,  as  out  of 
those  hours  she  tormented  me,  by  her  austere  scorn  and 
pride.  It  seemed,  as  if  she  was  alternately  governed  by 
two  hostile  spirits  ;  the  one  an  angel  of  light,  the  other  a 
demon  of  darkness. 

But  when  at  last,  even  Count  Hormegg  began  to  be  more 
cool  and  reserved,  my  condition  was  insupportable.  Only 
at  a  later  period,  was  I  informed  how  he  had  been  torment- 
ed from  all  sides  ;  and  how  Doctor  Walter  particularly  had 
endeavoured  to  shake  his  confidence  in  me,  by  various  and 
repeated  malicious  remarks  ;  and  what  a  deep  impression 
Hortensia's  reproaches  once  had  made  on  him,  when  she 
said, — "  Have  we  not  all  made  ourselves  dependent  on  this 
unknown  man  ?  It  is  said,  that  my  life  is  in  his  power. 
Very  well,  let  him  have  a  decent  salary  for  his  labours, 
more  he  deserves  not.  But  he  is  also  informed  of  our  fami- 
ly secrets.  In  our  most  important  affairs,  we  are  in  his  fet- 
ters, so  that  should  I  even,  be  well,  we  can  scarcely  send 
him  away  without  injuring  ourselves.  Who  will  be  secu- 
rity for  his  taciturnity  ?  His  apparent  disinterestedness,  his 
honourable  mien,  one  day  will  cost  us  very  dear.  Count 
Hormegg  will  be  a  slave  to  his  servant,  and  this  stranger, 
by  his  cunning,  has  made  himself  tyrant  over  us  all.  This 
common  plebeian  is  not  only  the  confidant  of  Count  Hor- 
megg, whose  lineage  is  related  to  princely  houses,  but  he 
is  the  conductor  and  head  of  the  family !  " 

To  arouse  the  pride  of  the  old  count  still  more,  his 
household,  in  a  body,  seemed  to  have  conspired  to  do  his 
commandments  with  timidity,  as  if  they  feared  to  incur 
my  displeasure.  Some  even  carried  their  impertinence  so 
far,  as  loudly  to  express  their  fear  whether  his  commands 
were  given  with  my  approbation.    This  eventually  in- 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


317 


fluenced  the  count  so  much,  as  to  make  him  more  suspicious 
that  he  had  overstepped  the  limits  of  prudence. 

Much  as  he  endeavoured  to  conceal  the  change  of  his 
mind,  I  observed  it.  I  had  never  desired  the  knowledge  of 
his  affairs.  He  had  communicated  them  to  me  by  degrees  ; 
had  wished  for  my  advice  ;  had  followed  it ;  and  by  doing 
so,  had  been  ever  a  gainer.  Of  his  own  free-will,  he  had 
placed  in  my  hands  the  whole  business  of  his  income  ;  and 
through  me,  it  was  brought  out  of  the  greatest  confusion  into 
such  order,  that  he  himself  acknowledged  he  never  before 
had  such  an  insight  into  his  domestic  affairs.  He  was  enabled 
more  suitably  to  arrange  his  pecuniary  affairs,  and  also  his 
estates.  Through  my  advice,  he  settled  by  mutual  agree- 
ment, two  old  intricate  family  suits,  and  thus  gained  more, 
than  he  could  have  hoped  for,  by  obtaining  a  favourable  ver- 
dict by  law.  In  the  excess  of  his  gratitude  or  friendship, 
he  often  wished  to  force  upon  me  considerable  donations, 
which  I  steadfastly  refused  to  accept. 

For  several  weeks  I  was  hated  and  misjudged  by  all. 
At  last  my  pride  was  aroused.  I  longed  to  be  out  of  that 
unpleasant  position,  to  which  nobody  endeavoured  to  recon- 
cile me.  Hortensia,  who  had  caused  all  the  mischief,  re- 
mained the  only  one  who,  in  her  visionary  dreams,  for  ever 
admonished  me,  on  no  account  to  pay  any  attention  to  what 
she  should  undertake  against  me  in  the  hours  of  her  wake- 
fulness. Then  she  condemned  herself, — then  she  cherish- 
ed me  with  flattering  addresses,  as  if  she  would  recompense 
me  for  all  the  chagrin,  which  immediately  after  she 
caused  me,  apparently  with  redoubled  eagerness. 

One  afternoon,  Count  Hormegg  called  me  to  his  cabinet. 
He  asked  me  for  his  account  books,  and  also  for  some  re- 
cently-arrived bills  of  exchange  for  two  thousand  Louis-d'ors, 
which  sum,  he  told  me,  he  wished  to  deposit  in  the  Bank  of 
Venice,  as  his  stay  in  Italy  might  be  prolonged  through  the 


318 


HORTENSIA  ! 


whole  year.  I  took  occasion  to  request  him,  to  intrust  the 
whole  of  the  business  he  had  given  me  to  transact,  to  an- 
other, as  I  was  determined  to  leave  his  house  and  Venice, 
as  soon  as  the  health  of  the  Countess  would  permit.  Not- 
withstanding he  perceived  the  pungency  with  which  I  spoke, 
he  made  no  other  reply,  than  to  request  me  not  to  neglect 
his  daughter,  and  her  convalescence  ;  but  as  to  the  other 
business,  he  would  very  willingly  release  me. 

That  was  enough.  I  saw  that  he  wished  to  render  me 
superfluous.  I  walked  dejectedly  to  my  room,  and  put  to- 
gether all  his  papers.  But  the  bills  of  exchange  I  could 
not  find.  I  had  perhaps  misplaced  them  between  some  pa- 
pers. I  remembered  imperfectly  that  I  had  enclosed  them 
in  a  particular  paper,  and  laid  them  apart.  All  my  search 
proved  fruitless.  The  count,  who  formerly  used  to  see  his 
wishes  accomplished  by  me  at  the  shortest  notice,  may  have 
felt  astonished  at  my  delay.  The  next  morning  he  put  me 
again  in  mind  of  it — "  You  have  perhaps  forgotten  that  yes- 
terday I  asked  you  for  the  account  books  and  bills  of  ex- 
change." 

I  promised  that  I  would  deliver  them  to  him  at  noon.  I 
searched  all  the  papers  leaf  by  leaf,  but  in  vain.  Noon 
came.  I  could  not  find  the  detested  bills  of  exchange.  I 
excused  myself  to  the  count  with  having  misplaced  them,  a 
thing  that  never  had  occurred  before.  I  had  most  proba- 
bly, by  the  hasty  search,  either  overlooked  them,  or  had 
mistaken  these  papers,  and  so  placed  them  among  others. 
I  asked  for  delay,  as  they  must  be  misplaced  ;  for  they  could 
not  be  lost.  The  count  however  was  discontented,  but  add- 
ed— "There  is  time  enough  ;  do  not  hurry  yourself." 

All  the  time  I  could  gain  I  spent  during  the  day  in  the 
search  for  those  papers.  The  next  morning  I  commenced 
anew.  My  fears  increased.  I  was  at  last  compelled  to 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  bills  were  either  lost  or 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


319 


stolen  ;  or  perhaps,  in  a  moment  of  absence  of  mind,  that 
I  had  used  them  for  waste  paper.  Besides  my  servant, 
who  could  neither  read  nor  write,  and  who  had  not  the  key 
to  my  room,  no  one  had  ever  entered  it.  He  protested  that 
he  had  never  suffered  any  one  to  go  into  the  room,  while 
cleaning  it ;  much  less  had  he  ever  touched  a  paper.  Be- 
sides the  count,  strangers  never  visited  me,  as  I  had  not 
made  any  acquaintances  in  Venice.  My  embarrassment 
rose  to  a  death-like  fear  ! 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Treachery. 

On  the  next  morning  I  walked  to  the  countess's  room  to  be 
present  at  her  trance.  I  thought  I  perceived  on  the  count's 
face,  a  cold  seriousness  that  spoke  far  more  than  words. 
The  thought  that  the  count  perhaps  suspected  my  honour 
and  truth  increased  my  uneasiness.  Thus  I  stepped  before 
the  sleeping  Hortensia  ;  and  at  the  next  moment  it  occur- 
red to  me,  that  perhaps  her  wonderful  gift  of  augury  could 
inform  me  what  had  become  of  those  papers.  Only  that  be- 
fore the  doctor  and  the  waiting-maids,  I  should  have  to  con- 
fess the  negligence  or  disorder  that  I  had  been  guilty  of, 
was  painful  to  me. 

While  I  was  struggling  with  myself  what  I  should  do, 
the  countess  complained  of  a  disagreeable  coolness  on  my 
part  towards  her ;  a  coolness  that  would  cause  her  pain  if 
it  did  not  alter — "  Thou  art  tormented  by  uneasiness.  Thy 
thoughts,  thy  will  are  not  with  her ! "  she  said. 

"  Countess  " — I  responded — "  it  is  not  astonishing.  You 
perhaps,  with  your  propensity  to  discover  hidden  things,  are 
capable  of  restoring  me  again  to  my  peace  of  mind.  I 
have  lost  among  my  papers  four  bills  of  exchange,  which 
are  the  property  of  your  father." 


320 


HORTENSIA  : 


Count  Hormegg  frowned.  Doctor  Walter  exclaimed — 
" 1  pray  you,  trouble  not  the  countess  in  this  condition  with 
matters  of  that  kind." 

I  was  silent.  But  Hortensia  seemed  to  be  musing,  and 
said,  after  the  lapse  of  some  minutes — "  Thou,  Immanuel, 
hast  not  lost  those  bills  ;  they  have  been  taken  from  thee  ! 
Be  pacified.  Take  this  key,  and  open  yonder  closet.  In 
my  jewel  box  thou  wilt  find  the  bills." 

She  handed  me  a  small  key,  and  pointed  with  her  hand 
towards  the  closet.  I  sprang  to  it.  Eleanor,  one  of  the 
waiting-maids,  ran  before  me,  and  tried  to  prevent  me  from 
opening  it — "  My  Lord  Count" — she  exclaimed,  terrified — 
"  you  hardly  will  allow  a  gentleman  to  rummage  over  the 
things  of  my  lady,  the  countess."  But  before  she  had  said 
those  words,  I  had  already  pushed  her  aside,  opened  the 
closet  and  the  jewel  box,  and — behold !  the  detested  bills 
were  lying  uppermost.  I  walked  with  a  face  beaming 
with  joy  to  the  count,  who  was  speechless  and  immoveable 
with  astonishment.  "  Of  the  rest  I  shall  have  the  honour 
to  speak  with  you  hereafter  ! "  I  said  to  the  count,  and  ap- 
proached again  to  Hortensia,  to  whom,  with  a  light  heart, 
I  returned  the  key. 

"How  thou  art  changed,  Immanuel ! "  she  exclaimed, 
with  an  expression  of  transport.  "  Thou  hast  become  a 
sun  filled  with  light." 

The  count  in  great  agitation  called  out  to  me — "Com- 
mand the  countess  in  my  name  to  tell  you,  how  she  came 
by  these  papers." 

I  obeyed.  Eleanor  sank  senseless  upon  a  chair.  Doc- 
tor Walter  ran  towards  her,  and  was  just  in  the  act  of  lead- 
ing her  out  of  the  room,  when  Hortensia  began  to  speak. 
Then  the  count  commanded,  with  an  unusual  harshness  of 
voice,  silence  and  order.    Not  one  dared  to  move. 

"  Out  of  hatred,  Immanuel " — said  Hortensia — "  those 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


321 


exchange  bills  were  taken  from  thee.  She  did  maliciously 
enough  foresee  thy  trouble,  and  hoped  to  induce  thee  to  flee. 
But  she  could  not  succeed :  for  Sebald  stood  in  a  corner 
of  the  corridor,  while  the  doctor  walked  with  a  night-key 
into  thy  room,  took  from  thee  the  bills  which  thou  hadst 
laid  among  the  letters  from  Hungary,  and  handed  them,  at 
leaving  the  room,  to  Eleanor.  Doctor  Walter,  who  had 
seen  those  bills  with  thee,  proposed  to  the  sufferer  to  pur- 
loin them.  Eleanor  offered  her  assistance.  The  sufferer 
herself  encouraged  them  both,  and  could  scarcely  await  the 
time  when  the  papers  should  be  placed  in  her  hands." 

Doctor  Walter,  beside  himself  at  those  words,  stood  lean- 
ing on  Eleanor's  chair.  His  face  wras  ashy  pale.  He 
smiled  at  the  count,  and  shrugging  his  shoulders  he  said — 
"  By  this  we  may  learn  that  my  lady  the  countess  can 
speak  erroneously  in  her  trances.  Let  us  await  her  wak- 
ing, and  it  may  better  be  made  manifest  how  those  papers 
haye  come  into  her  hands." 

Count  Hormegg  did  not  answer,  but  rang  for  a  servant, 
and  commanded  him  to  call  old  Sebald,  who  was  asked  if 
he  had  ever  seen  Doctor  Walter  enter  my  room  during  my 
absence. 

"During  Mister  Faust's  absence?  I  do  not  know" — 
Sebald  replied — "  yet  it  may  have  been  so  on  the  evening 
of  the  last  Sunday,  for  he  at  least  unlocked  the  door.  Miss 
Eleanor  ought  to  know  it  better  than  myself ;  for  she  re- 
mained standing  on  the  stairs  until  the  doctor  returned, 
and  gave  her  several  papers,  whereupon  both  whispered 
together,  and  then  parted." 

After  this,  Sebald  was  dismissed.  The  doctor  and  the 
half-senseless  Eleanor  had  also  to  leave,  on  a  wink  of  the 
count.  Hortensia  seemed  more  joyful  than  ever — "  Fear 
not  the  hatred  of  the  sufferer  " — she  said — "  she  will  watch 
over  thee,  like  thy  guardian  angel." 
15 


322 


HORTENSIA  : 


The  consequence  of  that  memorable  morning  was  this, — 
that  the  doctor  and  Eleanor,  besides  two  other  servants, 
Count  Hormegg  discharged  on  the  same  day.  The  count 
came  to  me  and  asked  my  pardon,  not  only  for  the  trans- 
gression of  his  daughter,  but  also  for  his  own  weakness, 
which  had  led  him  to  listen  to,  and  half  credit  those  mali- 
cious imputations.  He  called  me  his  friend,  and  the  only 
one  he  had  in  the  world,  to  whom  he  could  open  his  heart 
with  unlimited  confidence.  He  conjured  me  not  to  desert 
him  and  his  daughter ! 

"  I  know  " — he  said — "  how  much  you  suffer,  and  how 
much  you  sacrifice  for  our  sake.  But  you  can  calculate 
with  surety  upon  my  life-long  gratitude.  When  the  coun- 
tess has  again  recovered  her  entire  health,  you  will  surely 
be  able  to  please  yourself  better  with  us  than  you  have 
hitherto  done.  Is  there  on  the  earth  a  more  deserted,  un- 
fortunate man  than  myself?  Nothing  but  hope  keeps  me 
alive  ;  and  all  my  hope  rests  upon  your  kindness,  and  your 
persevering  patience.  What  have  not  I  already  experi- 
enced! what  must  I  still  experience !  This  extraordinary  state 
of  the  countess  oftentimes  nearly  robs  me  of  my  senses." 

I  was  affected  by  the  count's  grief.  I  became  reconciled 
to  him,  and  to  my  otherwise  not  enviable  condition.  The 
malign  disposition  of  the  countess,  on  the  contrary,  very 
greatly  weakened  the  enthusiasm  in  which,  until  that 
time,  I  had  lived  for  her. 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Hortensia's  Philosophy. 

By  the  kind  and  attentive  precautions  of  the  count,  I  never 
saw  Hortensia  during  her  wakeful  hours,  for  which  I  felt 
but  very  little  inclination.     I  even  heard  not  what  she 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


323 


thought  or  spoke  of  me  ;  but  that  I  could  very  easily  con- 
jecture. Great  order  reigned  throughout  the  house.  The 
count  very  soon  regained  his  respect  for  me.  No  one 
dared  any  more  to  form  a  party  with  Hortensia,  either 
against  him  or  myself,  since  it  was  known  that  Hortensia 
had  become  the  accuser  of  herself  and  all  her  accomplices. 

Thus  it  happened,  that  I  never  saw  her  on  any  other  oc- 
casion, than  in  those  moments  when,  elevated  above  herself, 
she  seemed  to  be  a  being  of  a  better  world.  But  those 
moments  belonged  to  the  most  solemn,  and  often  to  the 
most  affecting  portion  of  my  life.  Hortensia's  sweetness 
in  her  exterior  was  heightened  by  an  expression  of  inno- 
cence and  peculiar  transport.  The  most  rigid  decorum 
reigned  everywhere  around  her.  Only  truth  and  goodness 
were  on  her  lips  ;  and  notwithstanding  her  eyes  were 
closed,  in  which  otherwise  the  mind  is  wont  to  reflect  itself 
most  clearly,  one  could  read  even  her  softest  emotion,  in 
the  fine  play  of  her  mien,  as  also  in  the  manifold  modula- 
tions of  her  voice. 

What  she  spoke  of  the  past,  the  present,  and  the  future,  as 
far  as  the  sharpened  glance  of  her  mind  reached,  at  one  time 
on  account  of  the  singularity  of  her  observations,  at  an- 
other on  account  of  its  incomprehensibility,  excited  our 
astonishment.  She  herself  could  not  give  us  any  expla- 
nation about  the  How  !  although  I  requested  her  at  times 
to  do  so  ;  and  she  took  pains  by  meditation  to  grant  the  re- 
quest. She  understood,  as  she  said,  by  actual  intuition,  all 
the  anatomy  of  her  frame,  the  posture  of  the  bones,  the 
structure  of  the  muscles,  and  the  ramifications  of  the  nerves. 
She  understood  also,  she  said,  the  same  in  me,  and  in  every 
one  to  whom  I  gave  my  hand.  Notwithstanding  her  ex- 
tensive information,  yet  of  the  physiology  of  the  human 
body  she  never  had  any  knowledge.  Of  many  things 
which  she  saw  and  described  with  great  exactness,  I  told 


324 


HORTENSIA  : 


her  the  name,  and  she  would  correct  my  notions  when 
they  were  erroneous. 

Most  interesting  to  me  were  her  unfoldings  of  the  nature 
of  our  existence  ;  for  her  state,  to  me  entirely  inexpli- 
cable, led  me  often  to  question  her  about  it.  Every  time  I 
left  her  I  wrote  down  the  contents  of  her  answers ;  al- 
though many  things  she  had  spoken  of  were  in  unintelligible 
expressions  and  images.  I  select  and  present  what  she 
announced  to  me  about  objects  that  excited  my  greatest 
interest  and  curiosity. — I  once  observed  to  her,  that  she 
lost  much  by  not  being  able  to  remember  in  her  natural 
state,  what,  in  the  short  period  of  her  trances,  she  had 
thought,  seen  or  spoken.  She  replied  : — "  She  loses  no- 
thing, for  the  earthly  waking  is  only  part  of  her  existence, 
which  tends  to  certain  single  purposes ;  that  is  only  a 
limited  outward  life.  But  in  the  true,  unlimited,  inner  pure 
life,  she  is  conscious  as  well  of  that  which  happens  in  it, 
as  of  that  which  has  transpired  in  the  waking  state. 

"  The  inner  pure  life  and  consciousness  continue,  as  with 
every  other  human  being,  uninterruptedly  in  the  deepest 
swoon,  as  well  as  in  the  deepest  sleep,  which  only  is  a 
swoon  of  a  different  nature,  from  different  causes.  During 
sleep,  like  as  in  a  swoon,  the  soul  retires  from  its  activity, 
out  of  the  senses  towards  the  spirit.  We  are  then  also 
conscious  of  ourselves,  notwithstanding  we  seem  outwardly 
unconscious,  because  the  inanimate  senses  are  silent. 

"  When  thou  art  suddenly  torn  out  of  the  deepest  sleep 
into  wakefulness,  a  dark  remembrance  will  float  before 
thee,  as  if  thou  hadst  thought  of  something,  before  waking, 
or  as  it  may  seem  to  thee,  dreamt  of  something,  yet  thou 
knowest  not  what  it  was.  The  somnambulist  lies  in  a 
deep  sleep  of  the  outer  senses ;  he  hears  and  sees,  not 
with  his  eyes  and  ears  ;  nevertheless,  he  is  not  only  con- 
scious of  himself,  and  knows  precisely  what  he  thinks, 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


325 


speaks,  or  begins,  but  he  remembers  also  all  things,  from 
the  outer  waking,  and  knows  the  place  where  he  had 
placed  even  a  pin,  when  he  awakes. 

"  The  outer  limited  life  may  have  to  undergo  its  inter- 
ruptions or  pauses  ;  the  real,  inner  consciousness  has  no 
pauses,  and  has  no  need  of  them. 

"  The  sufferer  knows  very  well  that  she  appears  to  thee 
now,  Immanuel,  more  perfect,  but  the  faculties  of  the  mind  and 
soul  are  in  truth  not  more  elevated  and  glorious  than  before ; 
but  less  tamed  and  fettered  down  by  the  barriers  of  the 
outer  senses.  An  excellent  architect  works  with  deficient 
instruments,  more  imperfect  than  he  ought  to  do.  Even 
the  most  fluent  human  language  is  slow  and  heavy,  because 
it  can  neither  represent  all  the  peculiarities  of  the  thoughts 
or  feelings,  nor  the  quick  changes  and  current  of  the  no- 
tions, but  only  single  members,  of  the  progressive  chain  of 
thoughts. 

"  The  pure  life,  notwithstanding  that  the  outer  senses  are 
at  rest,  has  more  perfect  and  more  exact  remembrances 
than  the  earthly  waking ;  for  at  the  earthly  waking  up, 
the  All  gushed  through  the  unlocked  gates  of  perception, 
too  forcibly  and  almost  benumbing.  Therefore,  thou  know- 
est  it,  we  seek  even  amid  the  earthly  wakeful  periods, 
solitude  and  quietness,  and  draw  ourselves,  as  it  were,  out- 
wardly together,  and  do  not  wish  to  see,  nor  hear,  when 
we  desire  to  think  earnestly  and  deeply.  The  more  re- 
moved the  mind  can  be  from  the  outer  life,  the  more  it 
approaches  its  pure  state,  separated  from  the  activity  of  the 
senses,  and  the  clearer  and  surer  it  can  think.  Very  re- 
markable inventions  have  been  made  in  a  state  between 
sleeping  and  waking,  when  the  outer  portals  were  half- 
closed,  and  the  spiritual  life  remained  less  interrupted  by 
strange  interferences. 

M  Sleep  is  not  an  interruption  of  a  life  perfectly  conscious 


326 


HORTENSIA  : 


of  itself,  but  the  earthly  waking  should  be  considered  as 
such  an  interruption,  or  rather  only  as  a  restriction  of  the 
same.  For  as  when  waking,  the  activity  of  the  soul  is 
forced,  as  it  were,  within  fixed  paths  and  barriers ;  and  as 
on  the  other  hand,  the  attractions  of  the  outer  world  co- 
operate too  strongly  ;  so  by  the  earthly  waking,  even  the 
attention  is  too  dispersed,  and  further  drawn  towards  pro- 
tecting all  the  several  outer  parts  of  the  body ;  and  thus 
the  remembrances  of  the  pure  life  vanish.  Yes,  sleep, 
strictly  speaking,  is  the  entire  waking  of  the  mind ;  the 
earthly  waking,  as  it  were,  is  a  slumber,  a  benumbing  of  the 
mind.  The  earthly  sleep  is  a  spiritual  sunset  for  the  outer, 
but  a  clear  sunrise  in  the  inner  world. 

"  But  even  among  the  diversions  of  the  earthly  waking, 
we  perceive  at  times  the  vestiges  of  another  life  that  we 
have  lived  ;  we  only  know  not  always  how  to  explain  them. 
Thus  we  see  in  summer  nights,  on  high  mountains,  the 
evening  and  the  morning  red  of  a  sun  and  a  day,  that  by 
us  is  missing,  but  which  are  shared  in  other  regions  of  the 
globe.  Oftentimes,  in  extraordinary  cases,  thoughts  and 
preserving  resolutions  flash  across  the  mind  of  man  with 
astonishing  velocity,  and  without  previous  reflection.  There 
is  a  connection  wanting  between  our  former  notions,  and 
this  sudden  commanding  flash  of  thought.  Then  man  is 
wont  to  say  :  '  It  seems  as  if  a  good  spirit  had  furnished 
me  with  this  idea.'  At  other  times,  we  see  and  hear  in 
our  daily  life  something  that  seems  to  us  to  have  been  in 
existence  before,  and  yet  we  cannot  discover  the  how  !  the 
when!  or  the  where!  and  misconceive  it  to  be  a  wonder- 
ful repetition,  or  a  similarity  of  an  object  seen  in  our 
dreams. 

"  It  is  not  astonishing  that  our  conscious  being  does  not 
end ;  that  whether  we  are  awake  or  asleep,  that  forever  is 
active,  for  what  is,  how  can  it  cease  to  exist  ?  But  wonder- 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


327 


ful  is  the  change !  the  tide  and  flood,  and  wandering  to  and 
fro  of  the  life  from  the  internal  to  the  external,  from  the 
external  to  the  internal. 

"  The  spirit  clad  with  the  soul,  like  the  sun  clad  with  his 
vesture  of  light,  pouring  rays  through  the  universe,  can 
exist  without  body,  as  the  sun  without  other  heavenly 
bodies.  But  as  those  heavenly  bodies  are  dead  witnout 
the  sun,  and  then  without  having  their  course  would  be 
dissolved  ;  so  the  body  without  the  soul  is  dust. 

"The  body  has  its  own  life,  like  every  plant;  but  this 
earthly  vital  power  must  first  be  awakened  by  the  spirit. 
This  vital  power  stirs  and  moves  according  to  its  own  laws, 
independent  of  the  soul.  The  body,  without  our  desire  or 
knowledge,  without  its  own  desire  or  knowledge,  grows, 
digests  food,  suffers  the  blood  to  circulate,  and  changes  its 
juices  variously.  It  inhales  and  exhales,  evaporates  and 
attracts,  out  of  the  expanse  of  ether,  necessaries  for  its  pre- 
servation. But  like  other  plants,  it  is  dependent  upon  other  * 
matter,  from  which  it  draws  its  nutriment.  Its  condition 
changes  with  day  and  night,  like  the  condition  of  every 
Hower ;  it  elevates  itself  or  relaxes  ;  its  vital  power  con- 
sumes itself,  like  an  invisible  fire  that  needs  new  nourish- 
ment. 

"  Only  when  it  has  a  sufficient  fulness  of  vegetable  vital 
power,  is  the  body  fit  to  form  an  intimate  connection  with 
the  soul ;  without  this,  the  body  is  to  the  soul  as  a  stranger- 
being.  When  its  power  is  too  much  consumed  or  exhaust- 
ed, then  the  spiritual  life  retires  from  the  outer  to  the  inner 
parts.  Thus  we  call  sleep,  an  interruption  of  the  activity  of 
the  senses.  The  soul  enters  again  into  connection  with 
the  outer  parts,  like  life  that  has  infused  itself  into  the 
vegetable  kingdom.  The  mind  neither  tires  nor  becomes 
exhausted ;  but  the  body,  and  not  the  soul,  is  strengthened 
by  rest.  Thus  there  is  continually  a  tide  and  a  flood,  the  ad- 


328 


HORTENSIA  : 


vancing  and  the  retrograding  cf  the  spiritual  being  within 
us,  nearly  equal  to  the  change  of  day  and  night. 

"  During  the  greater  part  of  our  existence  we  wake  out- 
wardly— we  must  do  so — for  the  body  was  given  us  on  this 
earth,  as  a  condition  of  our  activity.  The  body  and  its 
propensities  give  to  our  activity  more  precise  directions. 
There  is  something  grand  and  wonderful  in  this  house- 
keeping of  God. 

"  As  the  body  becomes  old,  it  loses  the  strength  to  re- 
store its  vital  power  in  a  sufficient  measure  to  support  in 
all  parts  this  intimate  connection  with  the  soul.  The  in- 
strument formerly  ductile  and  flexible,  becomes  stiff  and  of 
less  use  to  the  spirit.  The  soul  draws  back  into  the  in- 
terior. The  spirit  retains  the  inner  activity,  until  every 
thing  prevents  its  connection  with  the  body,  whether  it  be 
done  by  the  corrupting  strength  of  age  or  of  sickness.  The 
freeing  of  the  mind  from  the  body,  is  the  reinstalment  of 
the  liberty  of  the  former.  Sometimes  it  announces  itself 
by  predicting  the  hour  of  death,  or  other  anticipations. 

"  The  healthier  the  body,  the  more  intimate  connections 
the  soul  forms  with  all  parts  of  the  same,  the  more  it  is 
bound,  and  consequently  the  less  capable  of  vaticinating, 
except  when  the  mind  in  extraordinary  moments  of  trans- 
port, as  it  were,  unfetters  itself;  then  it  is  like  the  seer  of 
futurity. 

"  The  retiring  of  the  soul  from  the  outer  world  becomes 
a  peculiar  state  of  the  human  being.  It  is  the  dream.  The 
dream,  when  going  to  sleep,  is  caused  by  the  last  excite- 
ment of  the  senses,  and  by  the  first  activity  of  the  free,  in- 
ward life.  In  a  dream  which  precedes  our  waking,  the 
last  ray  of  the  inner  world  mixes  itself  with  the  first  ray 
of  the  outer  world.  It  is  difficult  to  decipher  which  is  the 
property  of  the  latter  or  the  former ;  but  dreams,  there- 
fore, are  instructive  when  properly  observed.     As  the 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


329 


spirit  is~also  occupied  in  its  inner  activity  with  that  by 
which  it  was  attracted  in  the  outer  life,  we  may  be  enabled 
to  explain  the  movements  of  the  somnambulist.  If  even 
the  somnambulists,  when  their  outer  senses  are  again  un- 
locked, remember  not  any  thing  of  what  they  have  done 
during  their  extraordinary  state,  it  may  nevertheless  again 
occur  to  them  when  dreaming.  Thus  they  bring,  during 
their  somnambulism,  many  things  from  the  inner  world  to 
the  knowledge  of  the  outer — for  the  dream  is  the  natural 
mediator;  the  bridge  between  the  outer  and  inner  life." 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Changes. 

Gradually  the  conversation  of  Hortensia  became  less 
ethereal,  until  during  her  visions,  she  at  length  discontinued 
her  remarks  upon  spiritual  subjects,  and  talked  almost  en- 
tirely of  domestic  affairs,  and  the  amended  state  of  her 
health. 

This  she  continually  asserted,  that  she  was  improving, 
although  for  some  time  no  particular  symptoms  of  it  could 
be  discerned.  She  continued,  as  she  did  formerly,  to  direct 
what  she  should  eat  and  drink  when  awake,  and  what  would 
be  beneficial  or  detrimental  to  her.  For  nearly  all  medi- 
cines she  showed  perfect  disgust,  and  instead,  she  daily  de- 
sired icy  cold  salt-water  baths.  The  nearer  the  time  of 
spring  advanced,  the  shorter  were  the  hours  of  her  mental 
wanderings. 

In  the  seventh  month  after  our  arrival  at  Venice,  she  had 
recovered  so  far,  as  not  only  to  receive  the  calls  of  stran- 
gers, but  also  to  return  them,  and  to  visit  churches,  theatres, 
and  balls  ;  though  every  time  she  did  so,  it  was  only  for  a 
few  hours.  Count  Hormegg  was  almost  beside  himself  for 
15* 


330 


HORTEXSIA  : 


joy.  He  overloaded  his  daughter  with  presents,  and  form, 
ed  around  her  a  manifold,  wide  and  splendid  circle  of  di- 
versions. Connected  with  the  first  houses  in  Venice,  or 
sought  by  them  on  account  of  his  wealth,  as  well  as  on  ac- 
count of  the  beauty  of  his  daughter,  every  day  in  the  week 
was  changed  for  him  into  a  feast. 

Until  now,  he  had  lived  like  a  recluse,  bowed  down  by 
Hortensia's  malady,  and  kept  by  the  wonderful  manifesta- 
tions connected  with  her  sickness,  in  a  strained  and  de- 
pressed mood.  Thus  he  was  compelled  to  have  intercourse 
only  with  me.  Besides,  of  less  firmness  of  disposition,  and 
through  the  influence  which  I  had  over  the  life  of  Horten- 
sia,  with- a  kind  of  superstitious  regard  forme,  he  willingly 
submitted  to  all  my  arrangements. 

His  position  towards  me  changed  just  as  suddenly,  as 
Hortensia's  convalescence  afforded  him  a  mind  free  from 
sorrow,  and  the  enjoyment  of  festivities  from  which  he  had 
so  long  abstained.  Although  I  retained  all  my  power  to 
manage  his  domestic  and  family  affairs,  as  they  had  former- 
ly been  entrusted  to  me,  either  through  blind  confidence  or 
convenience,  yet  he  wished  me  to  conduct  his  business  un- 
der some  title.  When  I  firmly  refused  to  be  employed  in  his 
pay,  and  adhered  to  the  first  conditions  under  which  I  had 
entered  his  service,  he  seemed  to  make  a  virtue  of  necessity. 
He  introduced  me  to  all  the  Venetians  as  his  friend,  but 
as  his  pride  would  not  submit  to  friendship  with  a  plebeian, 
he  passed  me  off  as  one  of  the  purest  German  nobility. 
At  first  I  made  resistance  against  that  deception,  but  I  was 
constrained  to  yield  to  his  weakness.  Thus  I  became  of 
consequence  amid  the  circles  of  his  Venetian  companions, 
and  was  coerced  to  be  present  every  where.  The  count 
was  still  my  friend,  yet  not  as  formerly  ;  for  I  was  no  lon- 
ger his  only  one.  We  did  not  live  exclusively  together, 
and  for  each  other,  as,  prior  to  that  time,  we  had  done. 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


331 


More  wonderful  was  Hortensia's  transformation,  when 
she  became  convalescent.  During  the  hours  of  her  artifi- 
cial sleep,  she  was  as  amiable  as  ever ;  but  the  old  hate 
and  disgust,  during  the  rest  of  the  day,  seemed  by  degrees 
to  diminish.  More  obedient  to  the  admonitions  of  her  fa- 
ther, or  compelled  by  a  sense  of  her  own  gratitude,  she  ex- 
erted herself  not  to  give  offence  to  me  either  by  looks  or  by 
words.  From  time  to  time,  I  was  permitted  to  pay  her  my 
respects,  either  as  an  inmate  of  the  house,  or  as  the  friend 
of  the  count,  or  as  her  nominal  physician.  I  could  even 
go  into  company  where  she  was,  without  danger  of  exciting 
an  eruption  of  her  anger.  Exertion  or  custom  accomplish- 
ed so  much,  that  at  last  she  suffered  my  presence  at  table 
with  indifference,  when  the  count  dined  alone,  or  with  com- 
pany ;  but  even  then,  I  saw  her  pride,  with  which  she  look- 
ed down  upon  me,  shine  forth  ;  and  besides  the  little  which 
decorum  or  general  politeness  demanded,  I  seldom  received 
a  word. 

I  enjoyed  my  life,  strictly  speaking,  but  half,  notwith- 
standing I  felt  more  comfortable  at  having  greater  liberty. 
The  diversions  into  which  I  was  drawn,  gratified  me,  but 
without  increasing  my  peace  of  mind.  Often,  in  the  tumult 
of  excitement,  I  longed  for  loneliness,  which  was  more  con- 
formable to  me.  It  was  also  my  firm  determination  to  re- 
turn again  to  my  former  liberty,  as  soon  as  the  cure  of  the 
countess  should  be  effected.  I  longed  with  eagerness  for 
that  moment  ;  for  I  felt,  that  the  passion  with  which  Hor- 
tensia's beauty  had  filled  my  imagination  might  cause  my 
misfortune.  I  battled  against  it  ;  and  Hortensia's  pride, 
with  her  disgust  for  me,  greatly  facilitated  the  struggle. 
To  her  self-sufficiency  of  high  birth,  I  opposed  my  civic 
pride  ;  to  her  malicious  persecutions,  the  consciousness  of 
my  innocence,  and  her  ingratitude.  If  there  were  moments 
in  which  I  was  affected  by  the  grace  of  her  exterior,  there 


332 


HORTENSIA  .* 


were  also  many  moments  in  which  her  insulting  conduct 
aroused  my  strongest  repulsion.  An  acerbity  nearly  ap- 
proaching to  dislike,  was  settling  in  my  heart.  Her  indif- 
ference towards  me  displayed  as  much  a  heart  insensible 
to  gratitude,  as  did  her  former  aversion.  At  last  I  avoided 
Hortensia  more  diligently  than  she  did  me  ;  and  if  she 
could  look  at  me  with  indifference,  she  could  not  help  per- 
ceiving, in  my  whole  demeanour,  how  great  was  the  con- 
tempt that  I  felt  for  her. 

Thus,  by  Hortensia's  gradual  convalescence,  the  condi- 
tion between  all  of  us  insensibly  had  been  changed.  My 
most  ardent  desire  was  to  be  released  as  soon  as  possible, 
from  a  connection  that  afforded  but  very  little  joy,  and  my 
greatest  consolation  was  the  anticipation  of  the  moment 
when,  by  Hortensia's  perfect  health,  my  presence  would  be 
unnecessary. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Prince  Carlos. 

Among  those  who  attached  themselves  most  intimately 
to  us  was  a  young  nobleman,  of  one  of  the  most  noble 
families  in  Italy,  who  bore  the  title  of  Prince  Carlos.  He 
was  of  pleasing  form  and  refined  manners,  intellectual, 
versatile,  and  prepossessing.  The  animation  of  his  fea- 
tures, and  the  brilliant  glance  of  his  fiery  eye  betrayed  a 
susceptible  temperament.  He  lived  enormously  extravagant, 
and  was  more  vain  than  proud.  He  had  passed  some  time 
in  the  French  military  service.  Tired  of  that  life,  he  was 
about  visiting  the  principal  courts  of  Europe.  His  acci- 
dental acquaintance  that  he  had  formed  with  Count  Hor- 
megg  detained  him  longer  in  Venice  than  he  had  designed, 
for  he  had  seen  Hortensia,  and  joined  the  multitude  of  her 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


333 


admirers.  His  desires  seemed  to  have  made  him  forget 
everything  but  to  obtain  her. 

His  rank,  his  riches,  his  numerous  and  splendid  house- 
hold, and  his  pleasing  exterior,  flattered  Hortensia's  pride 
and  egotism.  Without  giving  him  the  preference  over 
others  by  particular  favours,  she  was  pleased  to  see  him 
in  the  circle  of  her  acquaintance.  A  single  confidential 
friendly  glance  sufficed  to  raise  within  him  the  most  ex- 
travagant hopes. 

The  old  Count  Hormegg,  not  less  pleased  with  the  ad- 
vances of  the  prince,  met  him  half  way,  gave  him  the  pre- 
ference, and  soon  changed  the  mere  acquaintance  into 
tender  friendship.  I  doubted  not  that  the  count  secretly 
had  selected  the  prince  for  his  son-in-law.  Only  the  sick- 
liness of  Hortensia  and  the  fear  of  her  caprices,  seemed  to 
keep  the  father,  as  well  as  the  lover,  from  making  any  di- 
rect and  open  disclosures. 

The  prince,  in  his  confidential  conversations  with  the 
count,  heard  of  Hortensia's  visions.  He  was  burning  with 
curiosity  to  see  her  in  that  wonderful  state  ;  and  the  coun- 
tess, who  very  well  knew  that  then  she  appeared  to  great 
advantage,  consented  that  he  should  be  present  during  one 
of  those  hours ;  a  favour  she  had  formerly  refused  to  every 
stranger. 

He  attended  one  afternoon  when  we  knew  that  Hor- 
tensia would  fall  into  her  excited  sleep,  for  she  foretold  it 
always  on  the  previous  occasion.  When  the  prince  en- 
tered the  room,  I  was  a  little  jealous,  for  until  then  I  had 
been  the  happy  one  to  whom  the  countess  had  addressed 
herself  in  preference  to  all  others. 

Carlos  approached  softly,  walking  on  the  end  of  his  toes 
over  the  soft  carpet.  When  he  saw  her  eyes  closed,  he 
thought  that  she  was  actually  slumbering.  Fear  and  de- 
light were  depicted  on  his  countenance  when  he  got  eight 


334 


hortensia  : 


of  the  charming  figure,  who  appeared  at  the  same  time 
like  something  supernatural. 

Hortensia  at  last  began  to  speak.  She  conversed  with 
me  in  her  usual  affectionate  language.  Again  I  was  her 
Immanuel,  whose  thought  and  will  ruled  her  whole  being. 
That  language  sounded  harsh  to  the  prince,  and  never  be- 
fore had  it  been  so  flattering  to  me.  Hortensia,  however, 
seemed  to  become  more  restless  and  troubled.  Several 
times  she  intimated  that  she  suffered  pain,  but  that  she 
could  not  discover  from  what  reason.  I  beckoned  to  the 
prince  to  give  me  his  hand.  Scarcely  was  this  done  when 
Hortensia  shuddered  vehemently,  and  exclaimed — "How 
cold  !  Away  with  that  poltroon  !  He  will  kill  me!"  She 
fell  into  convulsions,  such  as  she  had  not  had  for  a  long 
time.  Carlos  was  compelled  to  leave  the  house  in  great 
haste.  He  was  beside  himself  with  amazement.  Not 
until  after  a  long  time  did  Hortensia  recover  from  her 
cramps.  "  Never  more  bring  that  impure  being  before 
me" — she  said. 

This  incident,  which  had  even  terrified  myself,  was  fol- 
lowed by  unpleasant  consequences.  From  that  moment 
the  prince  looked  upon  me  as  a  rival,  and  his  deadly  hate 
fell  upon  me.  Count  Hormegg,  who  was  entirely  led  by 
him,  seemed  to  become  suspicious  also  of  Hortensia's  real 
sentiments.  The  mere  thought  that  the  countess  might 
become  attached  to  me  was  insupportable.  Both  the  prince 
and  the  count  were  joined  closer  together,  and  he  kept 
me  at  a  greater  distance  from  the  countess,  except  at  the 
times  of  her  strange  sleep.  They  agreed  upon  the  mar- 
riage, and  the  count  disclosed  the  wishes  of  the  prince  to 
his  daughter.  Although  flattered  by  the  attentions  of 
the  prince,  she  nevertheless  demanded  permission  to  re- 
serve her  declaration,  until  she  was  restored  to  full  health. 
Meanwhile  Carlos  was  generally  looked  upon  as  the  be- 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


335 


trothed  of  the  beautiful  countess.  He  was  her  continual 
attendant,  and  she  the  queen  of  all  his  festivities. 

I  soon  perceived  that  I  began  to  be  a  source  of  trouble, 
and  that  with  Hortensia's  convalescence,  I  should  sink  in- 
to my  first  nothingness.  My  old  discontent  returned,  and 
nothing  could  have  made  my  condition  endurable,  except 
that  Hortensia  dealt  me  justice,  not  only  during  the  hours 
of  her  sleep,  but  also  in  her  wakeful  state.  Not  only  had 
her  old  aversion  towards  me  taken  the  form  of  indifference, 
but  in  the  same  measure  as  her  bodily  health  began  to 
recover,  that  unconcern  changed  into  an  attentive  respect 
and  into  an  affable  friendliness,  such  as  people  of  rank 
evince  towards  their  inferiors,  or  towards  persons  whom  we 
see  daily  as  belonging  to  the  household,  and  to  whom  we 
feel  obliged  for  services  rendered.  She  treated  me  as  if  I 
were  her  actual  physician  ;  solicited  my  advice  and  my 
permission  when  it  related  to  the  partaking  of  some  en- 
joyment ;  obeyed  my  directions  to  the  letter,  and  overcame 
the  desire  to  remain  at  a  dance  when  the  hour  had  passed 
to  which  I  had  permitted  it  as  being  harmless.  It  also  ap- 
peared to  me  occasionally  as  if  the  mastery  of  my  will,  as 
Hortensia  expressed  it,  had  partly  passed  over  into  her 
waking  state,  since  during  her  trances  it  less  powerfully 
affected  her  soul. 


CHAPTER  XV. 
Dreams. 

Hortensia's  pride,  stubbornness,  and  caprices,  gradually 
vanished  from  her  like  evil  spirits  cast  out  of  her  mind  and 
soul.  In  her  disposition,  nearly  as  amiable  as  at  the  time 
of  her  visions,  she  fettered  me  no  less  by  her  outward 


336 


HOETENSIA  I 


beauty,  than  by  her  humility  and  grateful  benevolence  of 
heart. 

All  that  change  caused  my  unhappiness.  How  could  I, 
a  daily  witness  of  so  many  perfections,  remain  unmoved  ? 
I  wished  with  all  my  heart,  that  she  might  again,  as  for- 
merly, despise,  offend,  and  persecute  me  ;  for  then  I  might 
part  from  her  with  a  lighter  remembrance,  and  have  cause 
to  despise  her  in  return. 

My  condition  was  made  worse  by  a  dream  which  re- 
turned to  me  frequently,  and  always  in  a  similar  form.  I 
thought  that  I  was  sitting  in  a  strange  room,  or  on  the  sea- 
shore, or  under  projecting  rocks  in  a  cavern,  or  on  a  moss- 
grown  trunk  of  an  oak,  with  my  soul  in  deep  dejection. 
Then  came  Hortensia  towards  me,  looked  at  me  with  ten- 
der commiseration,  and  said — "  Why  so  sad,  Faustino  ?  " 
at  which  I  always  awoke,  for  the  tone  with  which  she 
spoke  this  to  me,  made  every  fibre  in  my  body  tremble. 
But  her  voice  sounded  through  the  whole  of  the  day  in  my 
ears.  I  heard  it  in  the  noise  of  the  city,  in  the  turmoil  of 
parties,  through  the  songs  of  the  gondoliers,  mid  the  music 
of  the  opera,  and  everywhere. 

Several  times  during  the  night,  when  I  had  that  dream, 
I  awoke  as  soon  as  Hortensia's  lips  were  opened  to  ask 
the  usual  question,  and  I  fancied  that  I  heard  her  voice 
near  me. 

Dreams  are  generally  considered  as  mere  phantoms  ;  but 
in  the  wonderful  circle  within  which  my  course  had  ban- 
ished me,  that  dream  also  was  an  uncommon  affair. 

One  day,  when  in  the  count's  room,  I  had  regulated 
some  of  his  accounts,  and  had  placed  before  him  some  let- 
ters for  his  signature,  he  was  suddenly  called  away  to  re- 
ceive a  Venetian  noble.  I  thought  he  would  immediately 
return.  I  threw  myself  into  a  chair  by  the  window,  and 
soon  was  lost  in  my  usual  melancholy  thoughts.    At  that 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


337 


moment  I  heard  the  rustling  of  steps.  The  countess,  who 
was  looking  for  her  father,  stood  beside  me.  I  was  great- 
ly alarmed,  without  knowing  why,  and  raised  myself  rever- 
entially. 

"  Why  so  sad,  Faustino  ?  " — said  Hortensia,  with  the 
same  voice  whose  tones  were  the  echo  of  those  that  in  my 
dream  had  sounded  so  feelingly  in  my  ears.  Then  she 
smiled,  as  if  she  were  surprised,  or  as  if  wondering  at  her 
own  question,  musingly  rubbed  her  forehead,  and  after  a 
while  added — "  But  what  is  this  ?  I  believe  I  have  been 
here  once  already.  It  is  singular.  Indeed  I  have  found 
you  so  once  before,  even  as  at  this  moment,  and  asked  you 
the  same  question.    Is  not  that  singular  ?  " 

"  Not  more  singular  than  I  experience  it " — I  said — 
"  for  not  once,  but  often,  I  have  dreamed  that  you  found 
me,  and  had  the  kindness  to  ask  me  in  the  same  words,  the 
same  question." 

At  that  moment  Count  Hormegg  entered  and  interrupted 
our  short  conversation.  But  that  occurrence,  which  seem- 
ed in  itself  but  trifling,  became  a  source  of  deep  thought 
for  me,  and  yet  all  my  revery  of  inquiry,  how  the  phan- 
tasms of  my  imagination  could  melt  into  truth,  was  without 
effect.  She  had  therefore  realized  the  same  dream,  was 
my  conclusion,  and  the  sameness  had  to  be  exemplified  in 
actual  life. 

Four  days  afterward,  the  god  of  sleep  passed  again  be- 
fore me,  and  told  me  that  I  was  invited  to  a  splendid  feast. 
Shortly  after  I  found  myself  at  a  great  festivity  and  ball. 
The  music  made  me  sad,  and  I  remained  a  lone  spectator. 
Out  of  the  turmoil  of  the  dancers,  Hortensia  suddenly  came 
toward  me,  pressed  secretly  and  affectionately  my  hand, 
and  whispered — "  Be  cheerful,  Faustino,  else  I  am  not!  " — 
then  she  gave  me  a  look  of  compassionate  tenderness,  and 
wTas  lost  again  in  the  crowd. 


338 


HORTENSIA  *. 


On  the  following  day,  Count  Hormegg  made  a  pleasure 
excursion  to  the  country-seat  of  a  Venetian.  On  our  ar- 
rival we  found  a  large  company.  At  night,  magnificent 
fire-works  were  displayed,  then  followed  a  ball.  The 
prince  opened  the  bail  with  Hortensia.  When  I  saw  them 
I  was  rejoiced  that  I  was  enabled  to  slip  unperceived  out 
of  the  throng.  Leaning  against  a  door,  Hortensia  bash- 
ful, yet  glowing  with  ecstasy,  came  towards  me  secretly 
and  swiftly,  pressed  my  hand,  and  whispered  —  "  Dear 
Faustino,  be  cheerful,  that  I  may  also  be  so  !  "  She  said 
this  with  so  much  interest  and  friendliness,  and  with  a 
glance,  that  I  lost  my  power  of  speech.  Hortensia,  before 
I  could  recover  myself,  vanished. 

New  couples  were  collecting  themselves  for  a  new  dance. 
While  passing  the  seats  of  the  ladies,  one  of  them  rose  at 
the  same  moment  I  approached  her.  It  was  the  countess. 
Her  arm  laid  in  mine.  We  stept  into  the  ranks.  I  trem- 
bled and  knew  not  what  had  happened  to  me  ;  for  never 
would  I  have  had  sufficient  audacity  to  request  the  honour 
of  Hortensia  for  a  dance  ;  and  yet  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  I 
had  done  so  in  my  confusion.  She,  however,  was  quite  un- 
embarrassed, scarce  paid  any  attention  to  me,  and  her  eyes 
wandered  over  all  the  throng.  In  one  moment  the  music 
began.  I  knew  not  what  was  done  around  me  ;  and  that  we 
two  had  drawn  upon  ourselves  the  attention  of  every  spec- 
tator. After  the  end  of  the  third  dance,  I  conducted  the 
countess  to  a  seat,  that  she  might  rest  herself.  I  stam- 
mered out  my  thanks  in  a  whisper.  She  only  bowed  to 
me  with  friendly  courtesy,  as  if  I  had  been  the  greatest 
stranger,  when  I  withdrew. 

The  prince  and  Count  Hormegg  had  seen  me  dance 
with  Hortensia  ;  and  had  heard  the  general  whispers  of 
applause.  The  prince  was  burning  with  jealousy — he 
even  made  no  secret  of  it  before  Hortensia.    The  count 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


339 


took  exceptions  to  my  having  had  the  audacity  to  ask  his 
daughter  to  the  dance,  and  reproached  her  on  the  following 
day  for  carelessly  forgetting  her  rank.  Notwithstanding 
the  dissimulation  of  both,  I  very  soon  saw  that  I  was  the 
object  of  their  hatred  and  fear.  Hence  I  was  seldom,  and 
at  last  not  at  all,  invited  into  the  company  where  Hortensia 
was. 

Meanwhile,  Hortensia  did  not  deny  to  her  father,  that 
she  entertained  feelings  of  gratitude  towards  me  ;  yet  every 
thing  else  was  a  reproach  that  excited  her  to  anger.  She 
acknowledged  that  she  esteemed  me,  but  that  in  fact  it 
made  not  the  least  difference  to  her,  whether  I  danced  in 
Venice,  or  in  Constantinople. — "  You  are  at  liberty  to 
dismiss  him  " — she  said  to  the  count — "  as  soon  as  my 
health  is  restored." 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Amulet. 

Carlos  and  the  count  waited  with  painful  anxiety  for  the 
period  of  Hortensia's  recovery,  when  they  could  dismiss  me, 
and  decide  upon  Hortensia's  marriage.  With  impatience 
did  Hortensia  desire  again  to  enjoy  her  health,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  remove  her  father's  suspicions.  I  also  looked 
forward  to  that  moment  with  no  less  desire  than  the  others ; 
because  when  far  from  Hortensia,  among  strangers,  and 
amid  other  scenes,  did  I  hope  to  assuage  my  unhappy  mind. 

Not  unexpected,  the  countess,  while  she  was  lying  in  her 
mysterious  sleep  one  day,  predicted  that  her  entire  con- 
valescence was  near. 

"  In  the  hot  shower-baths  of  Battaglia,"  she  said,  "  she 
will  entirely  lose  the  gift  of  her  visions.  Conduct  her 
thither.    Her  convalescence  is  not  far  distant.    She  must 


340 


HORTENSIA  : 


bathe  every  morning,  immediately  after  her  rising.  After 
the  tenth  bath,  Immanuel,  she  separates  from  thee !  She 
will  never  behold  thee  again,  when  such  is  thy  will.  But 
leave  her  a  memorial  !  Without  it  she  cannot  recover  her 
health.  Thou  hast  carried  for  a  long  time  a  faded  rose, 
between  glass  set  in  gold.  As  long  as  she  carries  the 
same  enveloped  in  silk  about  her,  her  convulsive  condition 
will  not  return.  No  later  nor  sooner  than  at  the  seventh 
hour,  after  she  has  received  her  thirteenth  shower-bath, 
give  it  to  her.  Until  then  carry  it  uninterruptedly.  Then 
she  will  be  well." 

She  repeated  oft-times,  and  with  a  singular  timidity,  this 
petition  ;  she  laid  particularly  great  stress  upon  the  hour, 
when  I  should  give  to  her  my  only  treasure,  of  whose 
existence  she  had  never  heard. 

"  Do  you  indeed  carry  the  like  1 "  the  count  asked  me, 
astonished,  and  on  account  of  the  predicted  restoration  of 
his  daughter's  complete  health,  in  a  transport  of  joy.  When 
I  answered  him  in  the  affirmative,  he  asked  further  if  I  put 
any  value  upon  the  possession  of  this  trifle  ?  I  assured  him 
that  it  was  my  greatest  treasure,  and  that  I  would  rather  die 
than  suffer  it  to  be  taken  from  me.  But  for  the  salvation  of 
the  countess  I  was  willing  also  to  sacrifice  that  prize. 

"  Undoubtedly  a  keepsake  from  a  beloved  hand  1 "  asked 
the  count  smiling,  and  inquiring  as  if  he  seemed  to  have  a 
desire  to  know  my  heart. 

"  I  have  it  from  a  person  whom  I  prize  above  all  others." 
The  count,  affected  as  much  by  my  generosity,  as  happy 
that  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  the  sacrifice  upon  which 
depended  Hortensia's  health,  forgot  for  a  moment  the 
hatred  that  he  had  borne  me,  and  threw  his  arms  around 
my  neck,  a  thing  that  had  not  happened  for  a  long  time. — 
"  You  make  me  your  everlasting  debtor  !  " — he  exclaimed. 

What  pressed  him  most  was  this  :  to  tell  Hortensia,  as 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


341 


soon  after  her  waking  as  I  absented  myself,  all  that  in  her 
sleep  she  had  demanded.  At  the  same  time  he  related  to 
her  the  conversation  he  had  had  with  me  about  the  amu- 
let. "He  values  this  amulet  very  highly," — he  continued, 
— "  as  it  is  a  keepsake  from  a  person  whom,  above  all 
others,  he  loves."  These  last  words  he  spoke  with  great 
emphasis,  so  as  to  unfold  the  disclosure  of  my  sighing  for 
a  long  time  past  in  the  fetters  of  another  beauty,  and  thus 
to  kill  Hortensia's  affection,  should  she  actually  entertain 
any  for  me — for  a  suspicion  to  that  effect  haunted  him. 
Hortensia  heard  all  his  tale  with  such  apparently  uncon- 
cerned ingenuousness,  and  was  so  sincerely  rejoiced  at 
her  approaching  convalescence,  that  Count  Hormegg  felt 
as  if  he  had  wronged  the  heart  of  his  daughter  by  his  sus- 
picion. In  his  rejoicings,  nothing  urged  him  more  than  to 
confess  to  me  his  .conversation  with  the  countess,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  give  intelligence  to  the  prince  of  all  that 
had  occurred.  From  that  hour  I  perceived  in  the  conduct 
both  of  the  count  and  also  of  the  prince,  something  unre- 
strained, benevolent,  and  obliging.  I  wTas  no  longer  kept  at 
a  distance  from  Hortensia  with  the  former  timidity,  but  was 
treated  with  attention  and  forbearance,  like  a  benefactor  to 
whom  every  one  is  indebted  for  comfort. 

Arrangements  immediately  were  made  for  our  departure 
to  the  baths  of  Battaglia.  On  a  beautiful  summer  morn- 
ing we  left  Venice.  The  prince  had  gone  before  to  pre- 
pare for  the  reception  of  his  intended  bride.  Traversing 
the  charming  plains  of  Padua,  we  approached  the  Euganic 
mountain,  at  the  foot  of  which  is  situated  the  small  town 
with  its  sanative  fountains.  While  on  the  way,  the  coun- 
tess often  preferred  going  on  foot.  Then  it  fell  to  my  share 
to  be  her  conductor.  She  fascinated  me  as  much  by  her  cor- 
diality as  by  her  delicate  sense  for  that  which  is  noble  in 
human  life,  and  beautiful  in  nature.    "  I  might  be  very 


342 


HORTENSIA  : 


happy  " — she  often  said — "  if  I  could  pass  my  days  in  some 
agreeable  part  of  Italy  amid  the  simple  occupations  of  do- 
mestic life.  The  entertainments  in  cities  leave  the  soul 
empty ;  they  are  more  benumbing  than  delighting.  How 
happy  should  I  be  if  I  could  lead  a  simple  life,  unen- 
ticed  by  the  miserable  condition  of  palaces,  where  we 
torment  ourselves  for  nothing.  O,  if  I  were  rich  enough  to 
make  people  about  me  happy,  and  could  find  in  my  men- 
tal creations  the  fountain  of  my  beatitude  !  But  we  must 
not  wish  for  every  thing." 

At  other  times,  she  would  turn  the  conversation  to  my 
determination  to  leave  her  and  her  father  immediately  after 
my  recovery.  "  We  shall  regret  much  to  lose  you," — she 
said,  good  naturedly. — "  We  shall  deplore  your  loss  as  the 
loss  of  a  true  friend  of  the  house,  or  as  that  of  a  benefac- 
tor. But  we  cannot,  and  will  not  disturb  your  resolution 
by  our  prayers  to  remain  with  us.  Your  heart  calls  you 
elsewhere  !" — She  then  added  with  a  somewhat  mischievous 
smile,  as  if  initiated  into  the  secrets  of  my  heart : — *  If  you 
only  can  be  happy,  we  have  nothing  left  to  wish  for.  And  I 
do  not  doubt  but  that  love  will  make  you  so.  But  do  not 
entirely  forget  us  on  account  of  that,  and  give  us  from  time 
to  time  intelligence  of  your  well-being." 

What  by  such  expressions  I  felt  I  cannot  describe.  My 
answers  were  obliging  and  full  of  courteousness,  for  respect 
demanded  me  not  to  betray  my  heart,  and  yet  there  may 
have  been  moments  when  my  feelings  overpowered  me, 
and  I  said  more  than  I  wished.  When  I  spoke  somewhat 
flattering  and  grateful,  Hortensia  looked  at  me  with  the 
gaze  of  astonished  innocence,  as  if  she  neither  compre- 
hended nor  understood  me.  I  was  convinced  that  Hor- 
tensia gratefully  respected  me,  and  that  she  wished  to  see 
me  happy  and  contented,  without  giving  me  the  preference 
over  any  other  mortal  being.    Only  from  pure  beneficence, 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


343 


and  to  give  me  pleasure,  she  had  joined  me  in  the  dance. 
She  acknowledged  that  she  had  expected  me  to  ask  her. 
Alas !  what  presumptuous  hopes  had  my  heart  founded  upon 

this  !    I  well  may  say  presumptuous  hopes  ;  for  if  Hor- 

tensia  really  felt  more  than  general  kindness  towards  me, 
what  would  it  have  availed  me  1  I  should  be  made  more 
unhappy  by  her  misfortune. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
The  Disenchantment. 

Through  the  contrivance  of  the  prince,  rooms  were  pre- 
pared for  our  reception  at  the  castle  of  the  Marquis  (VEste. 
His  castle,  situated  close  by  the  town  upon  a  hill,  offered, 
with  the  greatest  conveniences,  the  most  charming  distant 
prospects,  and  adjoining  umbrageous  walks.  To  take 
the  shower-baths,  we  had  to  go  every  time  to  the  town. 
There  also  a  separate  house  had  been  prepared  for  the 
countess,  where  she  passed  her  mornings,  as  long  as  she 
took  the  baths. 

Her  wonderful  sleep,  after  the  first  few  baths,  was  short 
and  in  private.  She  spoke  only  seldom,  did  not  even  al- 
ways answer,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  a  perfectly  natural 
sleep.  When,  after  the  seventh  bath,  she  spoke,  she  com- 
manded us,  after  the  tenth  bath,  not  to  let  her  remain  in  that 
house.  After  the  tenth  bath,  she  fell  indeed  once  more 
into  her  sleep,  but  she  said  nothing  more  than — "Immanuel, 
I  shall  see  thee  no  more  !  "  These  were  the  last  words 
which  she  spoke  in  the  state  of  her  trances  ;  although  after 
that  for  several  days  she  was  in  a  somewhat  unnatural 
sleep,  yet  during  it  she  was  not  capable  of  uttering  a 
word. 


344 


HORTENSIA  I 


The  day  of  her  thirteenth  shower-bath  arrived.  Until 
then,  everything  had  been  most  punctually  fulfilled.  Now 
the  last  thing  was  to  be  done.  Count  Hormegg  and  Prince 
Carlos  came  to  me  in  the  morning,  to  remind  me  of  the 
speedy  delivery  of  my  amulet.  I  had  to  show  it  to  them. 
They  left  me  not  a  moment  through  the  whole  of  the  morn- 
ing, as  if  now,  so  near  to  the  long  wished-for  period,  they 
had  become  suddenly  suspicious  that  I  might  change  my 
mind  about  the  sacrifice,  or  that  the  precious  thing  might 
by  accident  be  lost.  As  soon  as  the  intelligence  was 
brought  that  the  countess  was  in  the  shower-bath,  the 
minutes  were  counted.  When  the  countess  after  her  bath 
had  rested,  she  was  accompanied  by  us  to  the  castle.  She 
was  uncommonly  cheerful,  and  almost  mischievous.  Pre- 
pared for  the  fact,  that  in  the  seventh  hour  she  would  ac- 
cept from  me  the  gift,  and  then  carry  it  through  life,  she 
rejoiced  like  a  child  at  the  donation ;  and  rallied  me, 
jokingly,  about  the  treachery  that  I  was  about  to  commit 
on  my  select  one,  by  presenting  her  gift  to  another. 

It  struck  two  o'clock.  The  seventh  hour  had  arrived. 
We  were  in  a  garden  saloon.  The  count,  the  prince,  and 
the  waiting  maids  were  present. 

"  Now  no  longer  delay  !  " — exclaimed  the  count — "  the 
moment  is  at  hand,  which  is  the  last  of  Hortensia's  suffer- 
ings, and  the  first  of  my  happiness." 

I  took  the  highly-prized  medallion  from  my  breast, 
where  I  had  carried  it  so  long,  untied  the  golden  chain 
upon  my  neck,  pressed  a  kiss  upon  the  glass,  and  handed 
it  to  the  countess. 

Hortensia  took  it ;  but  when  her  eye  fell  upon  the  dried 
rose,  a  fiery  red  suddenly  spread  over  her  whole  face.  She 
bowed  gently  towards  me,  as  if  she  wished  to  thank  me  ; 
but  in  her  features  could  be  detected  a  confusion  of  mind, 
which  she  seemed  anxious  to  conceal.    She  stammered 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


345 


forth  a  few  words,  and  then  suddenly  absented  herself  with 
her  waiting  maids.  The  count  and  the  prince  were  all 
gratitude  to  me.  At  the  castle  they  had  prepared  for  the 
evening  a  small  festivity.  From  Este  and  Rovigo  a  few 
noble  families  were  invited. 

Meanwhile  we  waited  in  vain  for  the  reappearance  of 
the  countess.  An  hour  had  passed,  when  we  received  in- 
telligence that,  as  soon  as  she  had  received  the  medallion, 
she  had  begun  to  sleep  both  sweetly  and  soundly.  Two, 
three,  and  four  hours  passed.  The  invited  guests  had  col- 
lected ;  but  Hortensia  did  not  awake.  The  count  himself, 
in  great  uneasiness  of  mind,  w  alked  to  the  bed.  But  when 
he  found  her  asleep  tranquilly,  he  forebore  to  disturb  her. 
The  festivity  passed  oft' without  Hortensia's  presence  ;  but 
when  she  was  missing,  every  enjoyment  had  lost  half  its 
charm.  Hortensia  did  sleep  until  the  company  broke  up 
at  midnight. 

But  on  the  following  morning  also,  she  slept  so  soundly, 
that  the  count  was  terrified.  My  uneasiness  was  not  less. 
The  physicians  gave  the  assurance,  that  the  sleep  of  the 
countess  was  healthy  and  refreshing  ;  the  colour  of  her  face 
and  her  pulse  indicated  full  health.  Noon  and  evening 
came ;  Hortensia  did  not  awake.  The  frequent  assurances 
of  the  physicians,  that  the  countess  was  perfectly  well, 
were  necessary  to  pacify  us.  Night  came  and  passed 
away.  Rejoicing  reverberated  through  the  whole  castle, 
when  the  chambermaids  announced  Hortensia's  gladsome 
waking.  Every  one  hurried  to  her  room,  and  wished  her 
joy  for  her  health. 


16 


346 


HORTEXSIA. 


CHAPTER    XVII  i. 
A  New  Charm. 

Dubing  the  general  rejoicing  I  was  sad  in  my  room.  Tlie 
engagements  which  I  had  formerly  made  with  Count  Hor- 
megg  were  fulfilled.  I  could  now  depart,  whenever  I  wish- 
ed to  do  so.  I  had  often  expressed  my  desire  and  my  reso- 
lution to  that  effect.  Nothing  else  was  expected  of  me, 
than  that  I  would  keep  my  word.  But  now  to  live  apart 
from  Hortensia  was  like  condemnation  to  death. 

When  I  thought  of  her  near  marriage  to  the  prince,  and 
of  the  fickle-mindedness  of  the  weak  count, — when  I  thought 
of  my  own  honour,  of  the  necessity  to  die  free, — then  the 
manly  pride  and  defiance  would  rise  within  me  ;  and  I  re- 
solved to  depart  as  quickly  as  possible.  I  perceived  all 
my  misery  ;  yet  I  preferred  bidding  an  everlasting  farewell 
to  my  happiness,  rather  than  to  become  despicable  to  my- 
self. 

I  found  Hortensia  in  the  castle -garden  ;  and  when  I  ap- 
proached her  to  give  her  my*  congratulation,  she  stood 
musing  before  a  flower-bed,  separated  from  her  waiting- 
maids.  She  appeared  more  fresh,  more  blooming,  than  I 
had  ever  before  seen  her,  and  glowing  with  new  life.  When 
I  addressed  her,  she  noticed  me  for  the  first  time. 

"  How  you  terrify  me  !  "  she  said,  smiling  and  surprised, 
and  a  deeper  red  crimsoned  her  cheeks. 

"I  also,  esteemed  countess,  wished  to  express  my  joy 
and  my  congratulations  at  your  "  I  remarked. 

More  I  could  not  say,  for  my  voice  failed  me  ;  I  became 
confused.  I  could  not  bear  her  gaze  that  penetrated  my 
heart.  With  great  effort,  I  stammered  forth  an  excuse  for 
having  interrupted  her. 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


347 


Her  eyes  were  silently  fixed  upon  me.  After  a  long 
pause  she  said  : — "  You  speak  of  joy,  my  esteemed  friend  : 
but  are  you  also  glad  1  " 

"  Most  heartily  !  " — I  replied — "  to  know  that  you  are 
saved  from  the  sickness,  in  which  you  long  have  suffered. 
In  a  few  days  I  am  permitted  to  depart  hence  ;  and  again, 
if  possible,  in  other  regions,  to  be  mine  own  !  " 

"  Is  it  then  your  full  determination  to  leave  us,  Faust  ?  " 
— answered  Hortensia — "  I  hope  not.  How  can  you  say, 
that  you  belong  to  no  one  ?  Are  we  not  all  bound  to  you 
by  every  duty  and  tie  of  gratitude  ?  What  compels  you  to 
^>art  from  us  1  " 

I  laid  my  hand  upon  my  heart,  and  cast  my  eyes  upon 
the  ground,  for  to  speak  was  impossible. 

"  You  will  stay  with  us,  Faust.  Is  it  not  so  ?  " — asked 
Hortensia. 

"  I  dare  not." — I  answered. 

"  But  if  I  request  it,  Faust  ?  " — she  added. 

"  O  !  do  not  ask  me,  do  not  command  me,  I  can  only 

feel  contented" — I  said — "  when  I  no,  I  must  go  away 

from  here." 

"  Then  you  are  not  contented  with  us  ?  And  yet  no  other 
vocation,  no  other  duty  calls  you  away  ?  " — asked  the 
countess. 

"  Duty  towards  myself." — I  replied. 

"  Then  you  may  go,  Faust ;  I  have  been  in  error  as  re- 
gards you.  I  believed,  that  we  also  might  be  of  some 
value  to  you !  " — said  Hortensia. 

"  Countess  " — I  rejoined — "  if  you  knew  what  the  con- 
sequences of  your  words  will  be,  in  compassion  you 
would  spare  me  !  " 

"  Then  I  must  be  silent,  Faust.  Go,  but  you  commit  a 
heavy  wrong  " — answered  the  countess. 

As  she  said  these  words,  she  turned  away  from  me ;  I 


348 


IIORTENSIA  : 


dared  to  follow  her  and  to  beseech  her  not  to  be  angry  with 
me.  Tears  fell  from  her  eyes.  I  was  astonished  ;  I  con- 
jured her  not  to  be  angry  with  me.  "  Command  me," — I 
said — "  and  I  will  obey  you.  Do  you  bid  me  to  remain  ? 
My  peace  of  mind,  my  happiness,  my  life  I  will  joyfully 
sacrifice  to  your  command  !  " 

"  Go,  Faust,  I  will  do  nothing  by  force.  You  dislike  to 
be  with  us  !  " — she  subjoined. 

"  O  countess,  drive  me  not  to  desperation" — I  said. 

"  Faust,  when  do  you  depart  ?  " — was  her  inquiry. 

"  To-morrow,  to-day  " — I  answered. 

"  No,  no,  Faust !  " — she  said  softly,  and  stept  closer  to* 

me  : — "  I  do  not  value  my  health,  your  present,  if  you  

Faust !  You  will  remain  ;  at  least  for  a  few  days  !  "  She 
whispered  this  with  a  voice  so  soft  and  imploring,  and 
looked  at  me  with  her  moistened,  soliciting  eyes,  that  I 
ceased  to  be  master  of  my  own  will. 

"  I  remain  " — was  my  answer. 

"  But  willingly  1  " — she  asked. 

"  With  delight  "—I  replied. 

"  It  is  well :  " — she  said — "  but  now  leave  me  for  a  mo- 
ment, Faust !  You  have  made  me  very  sad.  But  do  not 
leave  the  garden  ;  I  wish  only  to  recreate  myself  a  little." 
— With  these  words,  she  walked  away  from  me,  and  lost 
herself  amid  the  blooming  orange  trees. 

I  remained  a  long  time  in  the  same  place,  like  one 
dreaming.  Such  language  I  had  never  heard  from  the 
countess.  It  was  not  the  language  only  of  courtesy.  I 
trembled  at  the  idea,  that  I  should  have  some  hold  on  her 
heart.  Those  appeals  to  stay  longer  !  those  tears  ! — and 
that  indescribable  declaration  in  her  behaviour,  in  her 
movements,  and  in  her  voice — a  silent  language  which 
spoke  more  than  words  are  capable  of  expressing — I  un- 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


349 


derstood  nothing;  yet  I  understood  all.  I  doubted,  and 
was"  full  of  conviction. 

After  a  few  minutes,  while  I  was  sauntering  up  and  down 
the  garden  walks,  and  had  joined  the  rest  of  the  ladies,  the 
countess  came  joyfully  towards  us.  In  her  hand  she  car- 
ried a  bouquet  of  carnation  flowers,  roses,  and  violet- 
coloured  vanilla  blossoms. — "  Faust" — she  said  to  me — 
"  I  have  culled  a  few  flowers  for  you,  do  not  refuse  them. 
I  give  them  to  you  with  a  different  feeling,  than  once, 
during  my  illness,  I  gave  you  the  rose.  I  ought  not,  my 
physician,  to  put  you  at  all  in  mind  how,  with'  my  childish 
humours,  I  tormented  you.  But  I  always  bear  very  duti- 
fully in  mind,  that  I  have  to  compensate  you  for  all — and 
how  much  have  I  not  to  compensate  you  for  !  Now  give 
me  your  arm,  and  to  Cecilie,  the  other." — Cecilie  was  the 
name  of  one  of  her  companions. 

As  we  were  walking  about,  we  were  met  by  the  count, 
and  soon  after,  by  the  prince.  Never  before  had  Hortensia 
been  more  amiable,  than  on  this  first  day  of  her  recovered 
health.  With  tenderness  she  spoke  to  her  father,  with 
friendly  cordiality  to  her  female  companions,  with  delicate 
courtesy  and  goodness  to  the  prince  ;  but  to  me,  never 
otherwise  than  with  manifestations  of  gratitude.  There 
was,  in  her  words  and  voice,  something  tender,  and  in  her 
eye  and  mien,  a  sisterly  familiarity,  solicitous  for  my  hap- 
piness. 

In  festivity  we  passed  a  few  charming  days.  I  found,  in 
my  intercourse  with  her,  a  tranquillity  of  mind,  a  substan- 
tiality, that  I  had  been  deprived  of  since  I  had  become 
acquainted  with  Hortensia.  Her  ingenuousness  and  truth 
made  me  more  natural.  She  did  not  deny  that  her  heart 
was  full  of  pure  friendship  towards  me.  I,  therefore,  con- 
cealed my  feelings  less,  notwithstanding  that  I  did  not  dare 
to  betray  my  true  sensibilities.    And  yet — I  was  betrayed. 


350 


HORTENSIA  ! 


The  guests  at  the  baths  in  Battaglia,  were  in  the  habit 
of  collecting,  on  fine  evenings,  before  a  great  cofTee-house, 
to  take  their  refreshments  in  the  open  air.  Conversation 
there  was  unconstrained,  as  they  sat  around  in  semi-circles 
on  the  open  street.  To  the  right  and  left,  mandolins  and 
guitars,  and  songs,  were  heard,  in  accordance  with  Italian 
customs — the  windows  and  doors  were  illuminated.  One 
evening,  when  the  prince  had  left  the  company  earlier  than 
his  usual  hour,  the  countess  concluded  to  visit  that  meeting 
of  the  guests.  I  had  gone  to  my  room,  and  sat  dreaming 
of  the  future,  holding  the  bouquet  with  both  hands.  The 
light  burnt  dimly,  and  the  door  of  my  room  was  half  open. 
In  this  situation,  Hortensia  and  Cecilie  saw  me,  and  after 
observing  me  for  some  time,  they  entered  the  room  ;  but  I 
did  not  perceive  them  until  they  stood  close  before  me,  and 
told  me  that  I  must  accompany  them  to  the  town,  and  ral- 
lied me  about  my  embarrassment.  Hortensia  recognised 
the  bouquet.  She  took  it  up  from  the  table  on  which  I  had 
thrown  it,  and  placed  it,  although  faded,  in  her  bosom. 
We  walked  towards  Battaglia,  and  mixed  with  the  com- 
pany. 

Cecilie,  however,  in  conversation  with  other  persons  of 
her  acquaintance,  strayed  away  from  us.  Neither  Horten- 
sia nor  myself  were  displeased  with  her.  Leaning  on  my 
arm,  she  walked  up  and  down  in  the  crowd,  until  she  be- 
came tired.  We  sat  down  upon  a  small  bench  under  an 
elm  tree,  that  stood  aside  from  the  crowd.  The  moon 
shone  through  the  branches  upon  Hortensia's  face,  and 
upon  the  faded  flowers  on  her  breast. 

"  Will  you  again  rob  me  of  that  charm  which  you  had 
given  me  ?"  I  asked,  pointing  towards  the  bouquet. 

She  looked  at  me  with  musing  earnestness,  and  then 
said  : — "  I  feel  always  as  if  I  could  give  you  nothing,  nor 
take  anything  from  you.    Do  you  not  feel  so  at  times  1 " 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


351 


This  answer  and  question  in  return,  thrown  out  so  pla- 
cidly, brought  me  to  confusion  and  to  silence.  I  scarcely 
dared,  out  of  respect,  to  touch  upon  the  agreeable  meaning 
which  it  contained.  She  repeated  the  question  once 
more. 

44  Most  certainly.  Alas!" — I  said — "when  I  look  at 
the  gulf  between  you  and  myself,  and  the  difference  that 
keeps  me  far  from  you,  then  I  always  feel  so.  I  only  live 
in  thoughts  of  you.  Be  enraged,  if  you  please,  at  my  con- 
fession ;  for  what  I  do,  is  your  own  commandment.  Can  I 
conceal  my  heart  from  you  ?  Is  it  a  crime,  that  my  whole 
soul  is  involuntarily  chained  to  you,  countess  1  " 

She  turned  away  her  face,  and  lifted  her  hand,  to  signify 
to  me  to  be  silent.  At  the  same  moment  I  covered  my  eyes, 
which  became  dimmed  with  tears.  Then  our  uplifted 
hands  sank,  one  into  the  other.  We  were  silent ;  the 
thoughts  had  passed  into  strong  sensations  ;  I  had  betray- 
ed my  passion — but  Hortensia  had  pardoned  me. 

Cecilie  interrupted  us.  We  walked  silently  back  to  the 
castle.  When  we  parted,  the  countess  said  softly  and  sad- 
ly : — "  Through  you,  I  have  recovered  my  health,  to  be- 
come  much  sicker!" 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Petrarca's  Dwelling. 

The  next  morning,  when  we  again  met,  there  was  a  kind 
of  solemn  reserve  between  us.  I  scarely  dared  to  address 
her  ;  and  she  hardly  ventured  to  answer  me.  Our  eyes 
often  met,  and  full  of  earnestness.  It  seemed  as  if  she 
wished  to  scrutinize  me  ;  and  I  endeavoured  to  read  in  her 
eyes,  whether  she  was  displeased  in  her  sober  moments  at 
my  audacity.    Several  days  passed ;  we  did  not  see  each 


352 


HORTENSIA  : 


other  again  alone.  We  had  a  secret  between  us,  and  fear- 
ed both  to  desecrate  it  by  a  look.  Hortensia's  whole  man- 
ner was  more  solemn,  and  her  hilarity  was  more  moderate ; 
as  if  she  did  not  belong  to  the  general  surrounding  ob- 
jects. 

Meanwhile,  Prince  Carlos,  as  I  was  afterwards  informed, 
had  formally  sued  for  the  hand  of  the  countess,  and  this  had 
caused  a  disagreeableness  and  coolness  between  the  prince 
and  her  father.  Not  to  offend  both,  and  to  gain  time,  Hor- 
tensia  had  asked  respite  for  so  uncertain  a  period,  and  on  such 
hard  conditions,  that  Carlos  nearly  despaired  of  ever  seeing 
his  wishes  gratified.  "  Not  that  I  am  averse  to  the  prince,'*  so 
ran  her  declaration,  "  but  I  will  yet  enjoy  my  liberty.  At 
a  future  time,  of  my  own  free  will,  I  will  give  my  yes  or  no  ; 
but  if  this  proposition  is  repeated  to  me  before  I  wish  it,  I 
will  firmly  and  for  ever  reject  it,  even  should  I  actually  love 
the  prince." 

The  count  knew  the  unbending  mind  of  his  daughter  ; 
but  he  hoped  for  the  marriage,  as  Hortensia  had  not  at  once 
rejected  the  suit  of  the  Prince.  Carlos,  on  the  contrary, 
was  discontented.  By  this  declaration  he  saw  himself  con- 
demned to  be  a  patient  suitor,  while  deprived  of  all  certain 
hope.  Yet,  he  possessed  egotism  enough  to  believe,  that 
by  perseverance  he  should  move  Hortensia's  heart.  Her 
familiarity  towards  me  was  disagreeable  to  him,  but  he  seem- 
ed not  to  fear  it ;  and  as  her  behaviour  was  open  and  cour- 
teous, he  considered  her  position  as  not  dangerous  to  his 
desire.-  He  looked  upon  me  as  a  friend  of  the  house,  and 
as  the  confidential  adviser,  both  of  the  daughter  and  of  the 
father  ;  and  as  the  count  had  informed  him  of  my  low  birth, 
he  less  feared  any  rivalry  in  me.  He  even  submitted  to 
make  me  his  confidant,  and  told  me  the  history  of  his  suit 
for  Hortensia's  hand,  and  the  answer  of  the  countess.  He 
conjured  me  to  give  him  my  friendly  services,  and  to  ascer- 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


353 


tain  if  Hortensia  was  favourably  inclined  towards  him. 
I  was  obliged  to  promise  it.  Every  day  he  asked  me,  if  I 
had  made  any  discoveries  ;  but  I  could  always  excuse  my- 
self, by  not  having  found  an  opportunity  to  see  the  countess 
alone. 

Perhaps  to  bring  about  that  opportunity,  the  prince  him- 
self prepared  a  small  excursion  to  Arquato,  fifteen  miles 
from  Battaglia  ;  where  the  guests  at  the  baths  often  went 
"  on  pilgrimage  "  to  see  the  dwelling  of  Petrarca  ;  whom 
Hortensia  prized  above  all  the  other  poets  of  Italy.  For  a 
long  time  she  had  desired  to  make  that  "pilgrimage." 
When  the  moment  of  departure  arrived,  Carlos  not  only 
offered  a  pretence  to  remain  behind,  but  also  kept  the  old 
count  from  accompanying  Hortensia.  Beatrice  and  Ceci- 
lie,  the  companions  of  the  countess,  rode  with  her  ;  I  at- 
tended the  carriage  on  horseback. 

I  conducted  the  ladies  to  the  burying  ground  of  the  vil- 
lage, where  a  simple  tombstone  covers  the  dust  of  the  im- 
mortal bard,  and  translated  for  them  the  Latin  inscription. 
Hortensia  stood  gravely  before  the  stone.  She  sighed.  "Yet 
everything  does  not  die !  "  she  remarked,  and  I  thought  I  felt 
her  drawing  my  arm  toward  her.  "  If  every  thing  died," 
sa  id  I,  "  would  not  the  life  of  man  be  a  cruelty  of  the  Crea- 
tor?" 

We  left  the  churchyard  with  pensive  emotions.  An  old 
man  conducted  us  thence  to  a  small  vineyard  not  far  dis- 
tant, near  which  stood  Petrarca's  old  dwelling,  and  around 
which  was  a  small  garden.  From  the  garden  there  is  a 
beautiful  prospect  across  the  valley.  At  the  house  was 
shown  Petrarca's  household  furniture,  preserved  with  re- 
spect, his  tables  upon  which  he  read  and  wrote,  the  chairs 
upon  which  he  rested,  and  even  his  culinary  utensils. 

The  sight  of  such  relics  ever  exercises  an  influence  over 
the  sensitive  mind.  It  casts  the  space  of  centuries  into 
.  16* 


354 


HORTENSIA  : 


nothingness  ;  and  brings  back,  what  long  since  has  passed 
away,  into  our  immediate  presence.  I  felt  as  if  the  poet 
had  only  just  left  the  spot,  and  that  he  would  shortly  open 
the  small  brown  door  of  his  room  and  salute  us.  Hortensia 
found  a  neat  edition  of  Petrarca's  sonnets  on  the  table  in  a 
corner  of  the  room.  Tired,  she  sat  herself  down,  leaned 
her  head  upon  her  hand,  and  read  attentively,  while  with 
the  fingers  of  her  supporting  hand  she  made  for  her  eyes 
a  concealing  shelter.  Beatrice  and  Cecilie  walked  away 
to  prepare  refreshments  for  the  countess.  I  remained  silent 
at  the  window.  Petrarca's  love  and  hopelessness  were  my 
experience,  another  Laura  was  sitting  there,  although  not 
immortalized  through  the  magic  of  the  muse! 

Hortensia  took  a  handkerchief  to  dry  her  eyes. 

I  was  startled  to  see  her  weep.  I  approached  her  tim- 
idly, and  yet  did  not  dare  to  address  her.  She  rose  sud- 
denly, smiled  at  me  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  said — "  Poor 
Petrarca,  poor  human  heart !  But  every  thing  passes  away  ! 
He  has  ceased  to  mourn  for  centuries.  But  yet  it  is  said, 
that  in  later  years  he  triumphed  over  himself.  Is  it  well  to 
triumph  over  ourselves  ?  May  not  this  be  called  gradual 
self-destruction  ?  " 

"  Even  when  necessity  commands  it?  " — I  asked. 

"  Has  necessity  power  over  the  human  heart?" — she  re- 
torted. 

"  But  Laura  was  the  wife  of  Hugo  de  Sade — her  heart 
could  not  be  his" — I  added — "it  was  his  lot  to  love,  and  to  die 
solitary.  But  he  had  the  gift  of  song,  and  the  muses  con- 
soled him.    He  was  unfortunate — like  myself!  " 

"Like  you?" — added  Hortensia,  with  a  scarcely  audible 
voice. — "  Unfortunate  Faust !  " 

"  I  possess  not  the  gift  of  song  " — was  my  reply — "  there- 
fore my  heart  must  break,  as  no  one  gives  me  consolation. 
Countess  !  dare  I  tell  you  more  than  what  I  have  told  you 


ASLEEP   AND  AWAKE. 


355 


already  ?  But  I  will  remain  worthy  of  your  respect,  and 
by  manly  fortitude,  I  may  be  enabled  to  do  so*  Grant  me 
one  request,  only  a  single,  modest  desire  !  " 

Hortensia  cast  her  eyes  to  the  ground,  and  did  not 
answer. 

"  Only  one  prayer  " — I  continued — "  countess  !  for  the 
sake  of  my  tranquillity  of  mind  !" 

"  What  shall  1  do  '}  " — she  whispered,  without  raising 
her  eyes. 

"  Am  I  certain  " — I  answered — "  that  you  will  not  refuse 
my  petition  ? " 

She  looked  at  me,  with  an  astonished  earnest  gaze,  and 
then  said  with  indescribable  dignity  :  "  Faust,  I  know  not 
what  you  may  ask  ;  but  whatever  it  may  be — yes,  Faust,  I 
owe  you  my  life,  my  confidence — I  will  grant  your  request. 
Speak  !" 

I  took  her  hand,  cast  myself  at  her  feet,  pressed  her  hand 
to  my  lips.  I  nearly  lost  my  power  of  speech.  Hortensia, 
as  if  lost  within  herself,  with  downcast  eyes  stood  before 
me. 

At  length  I  recovered  sufficient  strength  to  speak.  "  I 
must  go  away  from  here.  Let  me  fly.  I  dare  not  stay 
any  longer.  Far  from  you,  in  some  solitude,  let  me  tran- 
quillize my  mind.  I  must  hasten  away.  I  disturb  the 
peace  of  your  house,  Carlos  has  asked  your  hand." 

"  It  will  never  be  his !  "  the  countess  interrupted  me, 
speaking  in  a  firm  voice. 

"  Let  me  fly  !  " — I  rejoined. — "  Your  goodness  increases 
my  regrets." 

Hortensia  was  in  a  vehement  struggle  with  herself. 
"  You  commit  a  great  wrong.  But  I  dare  not  any  longer 
prevent  it  " — she  exclaimed,  and  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 

She  staggered,  and  sobbing,  sought  a  seat.  After  a  few 
moments,  she  recovered  her  strength.    She  felt  that  she 


856 


HORTENSIA  : 


was  encircled  by  my  arms,  and  endeavoured  to  extricate 
herself.  She  lifted  her  eyes,  and  with  a  face  from  which, 
as  formerly,  shone  the  red  of  her  visions,  she  whispered — 
"  Faust,  what  are  you  doing  ?  " 

"  Will  you  not  forget  me,  when  I  am  far  distant  ?  " — I 
asked  in  return. 

"  How  can  I  ?  " — she  sighed,  and  cast  down  her  eyes. 

"  Farewell,  Hortensia  !  " — I  stammered  forth. 

"  Immanuel !  " — she  whispered,  and  I  felt  her  almost  im- 
perceptible kiss. 

Silently  we  walked  out  of  Petrarca's  dwelling,  and  took 
the  path  down  the  hill,  where  her  servants  were  waiting 
for  us.  They  conducted  us  to  an  arbour  amidst  bushes  of 
wild  laurel,  in  which  refreshments  had  been  prepared. 
Immediately  after,  the  carriage  of  the  prince  came  rolling 
towards  us,  and  Carlos  with  the  count  alighted. 

Hortensia  was  serious  and  short  in  her  answers.  She 
seemed  to  be  lost  in  thought.  I  observed  that  she  made  an 
effort  when  she  had  to  speak  to  the  prince.  Towards  me 
she  displayed  unchanged  the  same  cordiality  and  frankness 
of  demeanour.  We  visited  Petrarca's  dwelling  a  second 
time,  as  Count  Hormegg  wished  to  see  it.  WThen  again 
we  stept  into  the  room,  which  the  confession  of  our  hearts 
had  endeared  to  us,  Hortensia  once  more  sat  down  upon 
the  chair  beside  the  table  to  the  book,  in  the  same  position 
as  at  the  first  time,  and  remained  so  until  we  were  ready  to 
depart.  Then  she  arose,  laid  her  hand  upon  her  breast, 
looked  at  me  with  a  penetrating  glance,  and  hurried  quick- 
ly from  the  room. 

The  prince  had  observed  this  movement,  and  her  glance. 
A  crimson  red  spread  over  his  gloomy  countenance,  and 
with  folded  arms  and  drooping  head,  he  walked  away. 
All  joy  had  vanished  from  our  company.  Every  one  of  us 
seemed  desirous  to  return  to  the  castle.    I  did  not  doubt 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


357 


that  the  jealousy  of  Carlos  had  discovered  all,  and  from  his 
vindictive  disposition,  I  dreaded  less  for  myself  than  for 
the  peace  of  the  countess. 

As  soon  as  I  entered  my  apartment,  I  began  to  prepare 
every  thing  for  my  speedy  departure.  I  acquainted  Count 
Hormegg  with  my  unchangeable  determination,  gave  to 
him  all  his  papers,  and  conjured  him  not  to  tell  the  countess 
of  my  absence  until  I  had  departed. 

CHAPTER  XX. 

MOUKNFUL  SEPARATION. 

I  had  previously  obtained  permission  from  the  Count,  that 
the  old  trusty  Sebald  should  accompany  me.  Often  he  had 
asked  for  his  dismissal,  that  he  might  see  his  German 
home  again.  Sebald  danced  for  joy  around  the  room,  when 
I  told  him  that  the  moment  of  separation  was  at  hand.  A 
horse  and  portmanteau  for  each  of  us,  were  our  whole 
equipment  for  the  journey. 

I  concluded  to  depart  before  the  break  of  day  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning.  No  one  in  the  castle,  except  Sebald  and 
the  count,  knew  anything  of  it.  For  Hortensia  I  wished 
to  leave  a  few  lines,  expressive  of  gratitude  and  of  affection, 
as  a  final  farewell  !  Although  the  count  seemed  to  be 
surprised,  yet  he  was  not  displeased.  He  thanked  me  for 
my  services,  and  promised  to  meet  me  within  an  hour  in  my 
room,  in  order  to  hand  to  me  a  few  useful  papers",  that  would 
procure  me  for  the  future  a  life  free  from  sorrow,  which,  as 
he  expressed  himself,  should  be  only  a  small  payment  on 
account  of  the  debt  which  he  could  never  fully  discharge. 
As  soon  as  I  returned  to  my  room,  I  began  to  pack  up  my 
personal  trifles.  Sebald  ran  to  the  stable  and  ordered  every 
thing  necessary  for  starting  at  any  moment.  Meanwhile 


358 


hoktexsia  : 


I  wrote  to  Hortensia.  More  than  once  I  tore  what  I  had 
written.  I  had  not  finished,  when  I  was  interrupted  in  a 
manner  that  I  least  of  all  expected.  Trembling  and  breath- 
less,  Sebald  came  running  into  my  room,  and  hastily  seizing 
the  packed  portmanteaus,  exclaimed — "  Mister  Faust,  a 
misfortune  has  happened.  They  want  to  drag  you  to  pri- 
son. They  will  kill  you.  Let  us  fly  before  it  is  too  late  !  " 
In  vain  I  sought  the  cause  of  his  terror.  The  only  thing 
I  could  get  out  of  him  was  this — "  That  the  count  was  furi- 
ous, the  prince  was  raving,  and  every  one  in  the  castle  in 
arms  against  me!"  I  replied  coolly — "I  have  no  cause 
for  fear,  much  less  like  a  criminal  to  fly."  "  Sir," — ex- 
claimed Sebald — "  without  some  calamity,  no  one  leaves 
this  misfortune-spreading  company  ;  an  evil  star  rules  their 
destiny.    I  said  so  long  ago.    Fly  !  " 

At  that  moment  two  of  the  game-keepers  entered  the 
room,  and  requested  me  to  go  forthwith  to  the  Count.  Se- 
bald winked  to  me,  to  endeavour  to  slip  away  from  them. 
I  could  not  forbear  smiling  at  his  timidity,  and  followed  the 
game-keepers.  Nevertheless,  I  ordered  Sebald  to  saddle  the 
horses  ;  for  that  something  extraordinary  had  happened, 
and  that  the  Prince  perhaps,  out  of  jealousy,  had  contrived 
to  get  me  into  a  quarrel,  I  did  not  doubt.  These  were  the 
circumstances. 

After  I  had  left  the  Count,  Carlos  entered  his  room  in 
great  wrath,  and  declared  that  I  had  dishonoured  his  house, 
by  a  secret  intrigue  with  the  countess  ;  for  Beatrice,  Hor- 
tensia's  companion,  who  had  been  won  by  the  Prince  by 
presents  and  tenderness,  after  leaving  with  Cecilie  the 
dwelling  of  Petrarca,  impatient  on  account  of  our  long  de- 
lay,  had  returned  to  the  place,  and  seen  us  in  our  salute. 
The  waiting  maid  was  of  course  modest  enough  not  to  dis- 
turb us,  but  she  informed  the  prince  of  that  occurrence  as 
soon  as  we  returned  to  the  castle.    The  count,  who  could 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


359 


credit  every  thing,  except  the  fact,  as  it  seemed  to  him  the 
most  unnatural  of  all  crimes,  that  a  common  low-born  man, 
a  painter,  should  win  the  love  of  the  Countess  Hormegg, 
that  he  treated  the  matter  as  a  mere  phantasm  of  stupid  jeal- 
ousy. But  the  prince,  to  vindicate  himself,  was  compelled 
to  betray  his  treacherous  informer  ;  and  Beatrice,  much  as 
she  strove  against  it,  was  forced  to  acknowledge  what  she 
had  seen. 

The  wrath  of  the  count  knew  no  limits,  and  yet  the  deed 
was  so  monstrous,  in  his  estimation,  that  he  wished  to  hear 
his  daughter  herself  respecting  it ;  Hortensia  appeared. 
The  aspect  of  his  pale  face,  disfigured  by  anger  and  terror, 
excited  her  amazement.  "  What  has  been  done  here  ?"  she 
exclaimed,  half  beside  herself.  With  terrifying  severity 
the  count  said,  "You  shall  answer  that."  Then  with  a 
forced  tranquillity  and  kindness,  he  took  her  hand  and  said — 
"  Hortensia !  you  are  accused  of  contaminating  the  honour 
of  our  name — well,  it  must  be  spoken — by  an  intrigue  with 
this  painter,  this  Faust  !  Hortensia,  deny  it,  say  No  !  give 
back  to  your  father  his  honour  and  peace  of  mind.  You  can 
do  it,  refute  all  malicious  tongues  !  refute  what  was  a  false 
show,  a  misunderstanding,  a  delusion,  when  you  are  said  to 
have  been  seen  this  day  in  Faust's  arms.  Here  stands  the 
prince,  your  future  husband.  Assure  him,  that  all  which 
has  been  said  against  you  and  Faust  is  a  wicked  lie.  Faust's 
presence  shall  no  longer  disturb  our  peace.  This  night  he 
leaves  us  forever  !"  It  seemed  to  be  the  count's  intention, 
when  the  alternately  flushed  and  pale  countenance  of  Hor- 
tensia left  him  no  longer  in  doubt  concerning  the  occurrence, 
to  give  the  matter  a  more  favourable  turn,  that  would  at  once 
reconcile  the  prince  and  bring  every  thing  again  into  its 
proper  course.  He  was  prepared  for  any  thing,  but  the 
declaration  which  Hortensia  made.  With  her  own  pe- 
culiar dignity  and  undaunted  resolution  ;  and  equally  by  the 


300 


HORTENSIA  '. 


treachery  of  Beatrice,  who  was  present,  as  by  the  Count's 
reproaches,  and  by  the  intelligence  of  my  sudden  departure 
during  that  night,  provoked  to  the  most  violent  emo- 
tions, she  first  turned  to  Beatrice  :  "  Wretched  girl!"  she 
exclaimed — "  I  am  not  standing  opposed  to  you.  My  ser- 
vant dare  not  be  my  accuser.  I  have  not  to  vindicate  my- 
self before  you.  Leave  this  room  and  this  castle — never 
more  come  before  my  eyes  !"  Beatrice  would  have  fallen 
weeping  at  her  feet.  It  was  in  vain.  She  was  compelled 
to  obey,  and  disappear. 

Then  the  countess  turned  to  her  father,  and  demanded 
that  I  should  be  called.  The  count  hurried  out  of  the  room. 
I  was  called.  Hortensia  also  left  it  for  a  moment,  and  re- 
turned nearly  at  the  same  time  as  I  entered  the  apartment. 
"  Dear  Faust  !"  she  said  to  me,  and  her  cheeks  burnt 
with  an  unnatural  red,  "  you  and  myself  stand  here  as  the 
accused,  and  as  the  condemned."  She  then  told  what  had 
occurred  ;  and  thus  continued  :  "  I  am  expected  to  justify 
myself.  I  have  to  vindicate  myself  before  no  one  but  God, 
the  Judge  of  all  hearts.  I  have  here  only  to  acknowledge 
the  truth,  because  my  father  demands  it,  and  to  declare  my 
unchangeable  will,  because  fate  has  determined  it.  I  am 
born  to  misfortune.  Faust !  I  should  be  unworthy  of  your 
respect  if  I  could  not  stand  firm  amid  every  calamity." — 
She  then  walked  to  the  prince  and  said  :  "  I  respect  you, 
but  I  love  you  not.  My  hand  will  never  be  yours ;  do  not 
nourish  hope  any  longer.  After  what  has  happened,  I  must 
pray  you  for  ever  to  avoid  us.  Do  not  expect  that  my  fa- 
ther can  force  my  will.  Life  is  indhTerent  to  me.  His 
first  violence  would  be  followed  by  no  other  consequence, 
than  that  he  would  have  to  bury  the  corpse  of  his  daughter. 
This  is  all  I  have  to  say  to  you. — To  you,  my  father,  I  have 
to  confess,  that  I  love  this  Faust  ;  but  I  cannot  help  it. 
He  is  hateful  to  you — he  is  not  of  our  rank.    He  shall  part 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


361 


from  us.  My  earthly  connexions  with  him  are  dissolved  ; 
but  my  heart  will  ever  be  his.  You,  my  father,  cannot 
change  it  ;  and  every  attempt  to  do  so,  would  be  the  end 
of  my  life.  I  foretel  it  you  ;  I  am  prepared  for  my  death, 
for  it  will  only  end  my  disappointment." 

She  was  silent.  The  count  wished  to  speak,  and  also 
the  prince.  She  motioned  to  them  to  be  silent.  She  ap- 
proached me,  drew  a  ring  from  her  hand,  gave  it  to  me,  and 
said  :  "  My  friend,  I  part  from  you,  perhaps  for  ever  !  Take 
this  ring  as  a  memento  of  me.  This  gold  and  these  dia- 
monds will  sooner  turn  into  dust,  than  my  love  and  truth  will 
cease."  As  she  said  this,  she  laid  her  arms  upon  my  shoul- 
der, pressed  a  kiss  upon  my  lips,  became  deathly  pale  and 
cold,  and  fell,  with  closed  eyes,  upon  the  floor. 

Count  Hormegg  gave  a  penetrating  and  horrible  shriek. 
The  prince  called  for  help.  I  carried  the  beautiful  corpse 
to  a  couch.  Physicians  were  sent  for.  Upon  my  knees, 
before  the  couch,  I  held  the  cold  hand  of  the  departed  to 
my  cheek.  The  count  tore  me  away.  He  was  like  a 
madman.  "  You  have  murdered  her  !  " — he  thundered  at 
me.  "Fly,  wretch!  and  never  more  be  seen."  He  thrust 
me  out  of  the  door.  Upon  a  wave  of  his  hand,  the  game- 
keepers caught  hold  of  me,  and  dragged  me  down  the  stairs 
before  the  castle.  Sebald  stood  before  the  stable.  As 
soon  as  he  got  sight  of  me,  he  ran  towards  me,  and  pulled 
me  with  him  to  the  saddled  horses  in  the  stable. 

We  had  not  been  on  our  way  half  an  hour,  when  I  saw 
a  horseman  coming  towards  me  at  full  speed.  "  Accursed 
murderer!"  I  heard  a  voice  call.  It  was  Carlos.  Immedi- 
ately several  shots  were  fired  at  me.  As  I  reached  for  my 
pistols,  my  horse  fell  under  me,  dead,  to  the  ground.  I 
jumped  off,  and  Carlos  rode  with  drawn  sword  towards  me  ; 
and  as  he  was  in  the  act  of  cutting  me  down,  I  sent  a  bul- 
let through  his  body.    As  he  was  falling,  his  companions 


362 


HORTENSIA  : 


caught  him,  and  instantly  took  their  flight.  Sebald  suffer- 
ed me  to  sit  before  him  upon  his  horse,  and  so  we  rode 
hastily  away. 

That  scuffle  had  taken  place  not  far  from  a  small  wood. 
The  sun  had  already  gone  down.  We  rode  during  the 
whole  of  the  night  without  knowing:  whither.  At  break  of 
day  we  stopped  before  a  village  tavern  to  give  our  horse 
rest ;  but  found  him  so  much  rubbed  with  the  saddle  that 
we  gave  up  all  hope  of  using  him  any  more.  We  sold  him 
for  a  trifle,  and  proceeded  on  foot  in  by-paths,  each  carry- 
ing his  own  portmanteau. 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

■ 

New  Adventures. 

The  first  rays  of  the  rising  sun  fell  upon  the  diamonds  of 
Hortensia's  ring.  I  kissed  it  with  tears  in  my  eyes.  Sebald 
told  me  in  the  night,  that  while  I  was  in  the  stable,  he 
heard  from  one  of  the  servants,  that  the  countess  had  been 
thought  dead,  but  was  restored  to  life.  That  intelligence 
strengthened  and  comforted  me.  As  to  my  own  lot,  I  felt 
perfectly  indifferent.  My  conscience,  free  of  reproach,  ele- 
vated me  above  all  fear.  I  felt  but  one  pain — to  be  sepa- 
rated for  ever  from  Hortcnsia. 

We  did  not  stop  for  repose  until  we  reached  Ravenna. 
There  I  made  a  long  day  of  rest ;  for  from  the  horrible  oc- 
currences and  the  enormous  exertions  I  was  exhausted.  Du- 
ring two  weeks  after  I  was  in  a  fever.  Sebald  was  tor- 
mented with  great  fear  ;  for  he  dreaded,  very  naturally,  that 
the  death  of  the  prince  would  bring  us  into  the  hands  of  the 
law.  He  had  given  to  himself  and  me  other  names  ;  and 
had  procured  different  apparel  for  us.  My  strong  constitu- 
tion, more  than  the  art  of  the  physician,  soon  restored  me 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


363 


to  health ;  but  as  we  had  concluded  to  go  from  Rimini  to 
Trieste  by  water,  I  hoped  to  recover  still  more  on  the  jour- 
ney. 

One  night,  in  great  terror,  Sebald  came  to  me,  and  said 
— "  Sir,  we  can  remain  here  no  longer.  Before  the  door 
stands  a  stranger,  who  wishes  to  speak  with  you.  We  are 
betrayed.  He  first  asked  for  my  name,  and  as  I  could  not 
deny  it,  he  asked  for  you." 

"Let  him  come  in  !  " — I  said. 

A  well-dressed  man  entered  my  room,  who  after  the  first 
courtesies  had  been  interchanged,  inquired  after  my  health. 
When  I  assured  him  that  I  felt  tolerably  well,  he  said — 
"  So  much  the  better.  I  wish  to  give  you  some  good  ad- 
vice. You  know  what  has  happened  between  you  and 
Prince  Carlos.  He  is  out  of  danger,  but  he  has  sworn 
your  death.  Therefore  get  away  as  quickly  as  possible. 
You  would  like  to  go  by  Trieste  to  Germany.  Do  not  do 
it !  There  is  no  ship  in  Rimini  bound  for  Trieste  ;  but  a 
Neapolitan  vessel  will  return  to  Naples.  You  are  safe 
when  you  are  at  sea ;  otherwise,  within  a  few  hours  you 
will  be  dead  or  arrested.  Here  is  a  letter  for  the  Neapoli- 
tan captain.  He  is  my  trusty  friend,  and  will  receive  you 
with  pleasure.  Only  get  as  speedily  as  possible  to  Rimini, 
and  from  there  sail  to  Naples." 

I  was  astounded  to  see  the  stranger  so  well  informed. 
At  my  question  how  he  had  come  by  his  information,  he 
smiled,  and  only  replied — "  More  I  know  not ;  and  more 
therefore  I  cannot  tell  you.  I  live  here  in  Ravenna,  and 
am  secretary  of  the  court.  Save  yourself" — and  he  sud- 
denly departed. 

Sebald  asserted  firmly,  that  this  man  must  be  guided  by 
the  devil,  else  he  could  not  have  known  our  secrets.  The 
stranger  spoke  without  to  the  people  of  the  tavern,  and  we 
learned  afterwards  from  them,  that  the  unknown  to  us  was 


364 


HORTENSIA  : 


secretary  of  the  court  at  Ravenna  ;  that  he  was  a  good  and 
honourable  man.  But  it  was  most  inexplicable  to  me  how 
the  mysterious  person  had  become  so  well  acquainted  with 
our  plan,  to  go  by  Trieste  to  Germany ;  of  which  no  one, 
excepting  ourselves,  could  know  anything.  The  enigma, 
however,  was  solved,  when  Sebald  acknowledged  to  me, 
that  during  my  sickness  he  had  written  a  letter  to  his  for- 
mer companion,  Caspar  of  Battaglia,  and  asked  him  to  give 
him  information,  whether  the  prince  had  actually  been 
killed.  He  had  waited  for  an  answer  in  vain.  The  letter 
had  without  doubt  fallen  into  the  hands  of  Carlos,  or  into 
those  of  one  of  his  people,  or  the  contents  had  otherwise 
been  betrayed. 

For  the  first  time,  Sebald  began  to  fear.  He  engaged 
without  any  further  ceremony  a  coach  for  Rimini,  and  we 
started  oft' on  the  same  night.  I  myself  felt  uneasy  about 
these  changes.  I  knew  not  whether  we  fled  from  danger, 
or  whether  we  were  approaching  it.  We  arrived  safe  at 
Rimini,  and  found  the  Neapolitan  captain.  I  handed  to 
him  the  letter  of  the  secretary,  and  soon  bargained  for  the 
fare  to  Naples. 

Besides  ourselves,  there  were  a  few  other  passengers  on 
board,  among  whom  was  a  man  whose  aspect  at  first  made 
me  feel  uneasy.  I  remembered  to  have  seen  him  before, 
at  the  baths  in  Battaglia.  I  was  however  pacified,  when 
I  gathered  from  his  conversation  that  he  had  never  before 
seen  me.  He  had  left  Battaglia  three  days  since  ;  and 
was.  on  his  return  to  Naples,  where,  as  he  said,  he  dealt 
very  largely  in  mercantile  business.  He  spoke  of  the  ac- 
quaintances that  he  had  made  at  the  baths  in  Battaglia, 
and  mentioned  also  the  German  countess,  who,  as  he  ex- 
pressed himself,  was  a  wonder  of  grace  and  beauty.  How 
did  my  heart  beat !  Of  the  wounding  or  the  death  of  the 
prince  he  seemed  not  to  know  anything.    The  countess, 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


365 


whose  name  he  did  not  know,  had  left  four  days  before  him, 
he  said  ;  but  where  she  had  gone  to,  he  had  not  concerned 
himself. 

Deficient  as  that  intelligence  was,  nevertheless  it 
served  to  tranquillize  me.  Hortensia  lived,  Hortensia  was 
well. — "  May  she  be  happy  !  " — was  my  earnest  prayer. 
The  voyage  was  tedious  to  all,  but  not  to  me.  I  sought 
solitude.  Through  many  nights  I  sat  waking  on  deck,  or 
half-dreaming  of  Hortensia.  The  young  merchant — his 
name  was  Tufaldini — observed  my  melancholy,  and  gave 
himself  great  trouble  to  cheer  me.  He  heard  that  I  was 
a  painter.  He  loved  the  art  passionately,  and  turned  the 
conversation  continually  to  it,  because  nothing  else  seemed 
to  interest  my  mind,  or  to  arouse  my  loquacity.  His  inter- 
est and  friendliness  at  last  became  so  great,  that  he 
offered  me  rooms  and  board  in  his  own  house  in  Naples, 
which  I  did  not  refuse,  as  I  was  a  perfect  stranger  in 
Naples,  and  as  mine  and  Sebald's  united  funds,  after  deduct- 
ing our  fare,  were  greatly  diminished. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

Another  Wonder. 

The  kindness  and  care  of  Tufaldini  distressed  me.  From 
a  travelling  companion  he  made  me  his  friend ;  not- 
withstanding that  I  had  done  nothing  to  deserve  his  regard. 
As  his  friend,  he  introduced  me  to  his  mother,  and  to  his 
wife  ;  and  after  a  few  days  I  was  treated  like  an  old  friend 
of  the  family.  But  Tufaldini  also  introduced  me  to  all  his 
acquaintances,  and  from  them  I  soon  received  orders  for 
paintings.  He  himself  was  as  eager  to  get  me  employ- 
ment as  if  it  had  been  for  his  own  benefit.  He  even  acce- 
ded to  my  wishes  to  take  payment  for  my  rooms  and  board, 


366 


HORTENSIA  I 


much  as  at  first  my  offer  pained  him.  But  when  he  saw 
my  determination  to  leave  his  house,  if  I  could  not  recom- 
pense him,  he  took  the  money  more  to  please  me  than  as  a 
compensation. 

With  my  labours  I  was  fortunate  beyond  all  expectation. 
My  paintings  were  admired,  I  was  paid  what  I  asked  for 
them,  and  every  order  when  finished  procured  me  another. 
Sebald  was  so  happy  in  Naples,  that  he  even  forgot  his 
homesickness  for  Germany.  He  thanked  God  that  he  had 
been  so  fortunate  as  to  escape  with  a  whole  skin  from 
Count  Hormegg's  service  ;  and  would  rather,  as  he  avow- 
ed,  serve  me  for  water  and  bread,  than  the  count  for  dishes 
full  of  gold. 

It  was  my  purpose  to  accumulate  as  much  by  my  labour 
as  would  enable  me  to  make  the  tour  to  Germany,  and 
there  to  settle.  I  was  industrious  and  saving.  Thus  passed 
away  a  year.  The  kindness  that  I  enjoyed  in  Tufaldini's 
house,  and  the  charm  of  the  soft  climate ;  and  then  that  in 
Geimany  I  was  without  fame,  without  friends,  made  me  for- 
get my  first  project.  Joy  was  blooming  for  me  as  little  on  Ger- 
man as  on  Italian  ground.  Only  the  thought,  that  Hortensia, 
perhaps,  might  be  living  on  the.  estates  of  her  father — and 
that  I  might  have  the  consolation  of  seeing  her  there  again, 
if  even  from  a  distance  only ;  that  thought  made  me  some- 
times long  for  the  north.  But  when  I  remembered  our 
parting  time,  and  the  words  that  she  spoke  : — "  My  earthly 
connection  with  him  is  dissolved  !  " — how,  before  her  fa- 
ther so  solemnly,  and  with  such  heroic  greatness,  she 
resigned  me — then  I  also  arose  again  to  the  courageous 
feeling,  that  I  would  bear  all  joyfully. — I  seemed  to  be  like 
an  oak  tree,  blasted  by  the  storm  ;  without  branches  ; 
without  foliage  ;  lonely,  and  dying  within  itself. 

It  is  said  that  time  will  heal,  with  benevolent  hand,  even 
the  deepest  wound.  I  once  put  faith  in  that  adage ;  but  I  found 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


367 


it  untrue.  My  melancholy  remained  the  same.  I  avoided 
all  those  who  were  joyful.  I  often  found  alleviation  in 
tears.  One  dream  of  Hortensia,  when  I  saw  her  in  her 
loveliness,  was  my  only  joy.  Her  ring  was  my  visible 
patron.  Had  it  fallen  into  the  depths  of  the  ocean,  nothing 
would  have  prevented  me  from  attempting  to  recover  it. 

The  second  year  passed  ;  but  not  my  grief.  However  it 
happened,  I  ever  was  comforted,  even  in  the  darkest  hours, 
by  a  dim  ray  of  hope,  that  perhaps  some  accident  might 
again  bring  me  near  the  lost  one  ;  or  that  I  might  at  least 
hear  some  tidings  of  her.  Nevertheless,  I  thought — how 
can  she,  who  is  far  distant,  after  the  lapse  of  years,  know 
where  I,  the  lone  one,  live  ?  All  the  same.  Does  he,  who 
hopes,  regard  possibilities  1 — But  at  the  end  of  the  second 
year,  I  lost  that  hope.  Hortensia  was  as  if  dead  to  me.  I 
also  saw  her  in  my  dreams  only  as  a  supernatural  being. 

Tufaldini  and  his  wife,  in  our  confidential  conversations, 
had  asked  the  cause  of  my  dejection.  I  could  never  so 
far  conquer  myself,  as  to  disclose  my  secret.  At  last  they 
inquired  no  more  ;  but  became  apprehensive  for  my  health. 

Every  thing,  however,  took  a  sudden  change.  One 
morning  Sebald  brought  me  some  letters  that  had  arrived 
for  me  by  the  mail ;  among  them  were  new  orders  for 
paintings,  and  a  small  box.  I  opened  it :  who  can  conceive 
my  joyful  surprise  1 — I  beheld  Hortensia's  image  ! — but  in  a 
black  mourning  dress — the  face  more  thin  and  more  pale 
than  I  had  seen  it  in  the  reality — beside  it,  upon  a  piece 
of  paper,  by  Hortensia's  hand,  were  written  these  three 
words  :  "  Hope  !  my  Immanuel !  " — I  fell  speechless  upon 
a  chair, — I  lifted  my  hands  to  heaven  in  prayer  ;  I  kissed 
the  portrait  and  the  piece  of  paper  that  had  been  touched 
by  her  hand  ;  and  thanked  Providence,  weeping,  with  my 
face  almost  upon  the  floor. 

Sebald  thought  me  mad.    He  did  not  err.    Man, — I  felt 


368 


HOBTENSIA  : 


it, — is  always  stronger  to  bear  misfortune  than  prosperity  ; 
against  the  former  he  walks  more  or  less  armed,  but 
against  the  latter  without  fear  and  caution  ! 

My  hopes  again  blossomed  cheerfully;  and  with  them  my 
health,  and  my  life.  Tufaldini  and  all  my  acquaintances 
were  rejoiced  at  it.  I  expected  now,  from  day  to  day, 
new  intelligence.  That  the  dearly  beloved  one  knew  of 
my  abode,  could  not  be  doubted.  But  from  what  part  of  the 
world  her  portrait  had  come  to  me,  my  investigation  and 
inquiries  could  not  discover. 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
The  Solution. 

After  several  months  I  received  another  letter  from  Hor- 
tensia.  It  consisted  of  the  following  lines  : — "  Once  more, 
Immanuel,  I  should  like  to  see  you.  Endeavour  to  be  on 
the  first  morning  of  May  at  Livorno,  where  from  the  Swiss 
mercantile  house  *  *  *  *  you  will  receive  further 
intelligence,  if  you  ask  for  the  Widow  Black,  who  will 
show  you  my  place  of  abode.  Tell  no  one  in  Naples 
whither  you  are  going  ;  and,  above  all,  say  nothing  of  me. 
I  am  no  longer  for  any  one  in  this  world,  except  perhaps 
during  a  few  moments  for  yourself." 

That  letter  filled  me  with  delight,  but  on  account  of  the 
dark  secret  that  was  in  it,  I  felt  an  alarming  misgiving. 
But  to  see  Hortensia  again,  if  only  for  a  few  moments,  was 
enough  for  me.  In  April  I  departed  from  Naples,  and  in 
great  dejection,  from  Tufaldini's  house.  Sebald  and  every 
one  thought  I  was  going  back  to  Germany. 

I  arrived  with  Sebald  at  Gaeta.  There  we  met  with  un- 
looked-for pleasure.  Near  the  city,  in  passing  the  gar- 
den door  of  a  villa,  I  saw  among  several  ladies  Miss  Ce- 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE. 


36& 


eilie.  I  stopped,  jumped  out  of  the  carriage,  and  made 
myself  known  to  her.  She  introduced  me  to  the  circle  of 
her  acquaintances.  She  herself  was  just  married.  From 
her  I  learned  that  she  had  left  Hortensia  a  year  before.  Of 
the  present  abode  of  the  countess  she  knew  nothing,  ex- 
cept only  that  she  had  gone  into  a  cloister.  "  A  year  has 
elapsed  " — said  Cecilie — "  since  Count  Hormegg's  death. 
By  the  sudden  restrictions  from  all  the  luxuries  which  she 
had  hitherto  enjoyed,  we  soon  observed  that  he  had  left  his 
affairs  in  a  sad  confusion.  The  countess  greatly  diminish- 
ed the  number  of  her  servants.  I  had  the  favour  to  be  re- 
tained by  her.  But  when,  by  an  unfortunate  suit,  she  lost 
all  hope  of  retaining  any  of  the  indebted  estates  of  her 
father,  we  were  all  dismissed.  Oh,  how  many  tears  did 
that  parting  cost  us !  Hortensia  was  never  more  charm- 
ing and  never  more  exalted  than  under  the  heaviest  blows 
of  misfortune.  She  renounced  all  the  splendour  to  which 
she  had  been  used,  divided  all  her  rich  garments,  like  one 
dying,  among  her  dismissed  servants  ;  rewarded  all  with 
such  princely  liberality,  that  she  certainly  must  have  placed 
herself  in  danger  of  want,  and  only  begged  of  us  to  in- 
clude her  in  our  prayers.  I  was  at  Milan,  where  I  left 
her,  and  whence  I  returned  home  here  to  my  family.  She 
said  that  it  was  her  desire  to  go  to  Germany,  and  there 
seek  the  solitude  of  a  cloister." 

This  narrative  of  Cecilie  explained  all  the  enigmas  in 
Hortensia's  last  letter.  She  also  informed  me  that  Carlos, 
immediately  after  recovering  from  his  wound,  entered  into 
the  Maltese  service,  and  did  not  long  survive. 

In  a  half  sad  and  a  half  joyful  mood  I  left  Gaeta.  Hor- 
tensia's misfortunes  and  the  loss  of  her  estates  excited  my 
compassion,  but  at  the  same  time  a  bolder  hope  arose 
within  me  than  I  had  previosuly  dared  to  entertain.  I  flat- 
tered myself  to  be  able  perhaps  to  dissuade  her  from  her  pur- 
17 


370 


HORTENSIA  : 


pose  of  passing  her  life  in  a  cloister,  and  also  perhaps  with 
her  heart  to  gain  her  hand.  I  exulted  in  the  thought  of 
being  permitted  to  share  with  Hortensia  the  fruits  of  my 
labour.  This  soon  became  my  only  dream  upon  the  road 
to  Livorno,  where  I  arrived  some  days  before  the  time 
fixed  by  her. 

I  delayed  not  to  seek  immediately  the  Swiss  mercantile 
house,  to  which  I  had  been  directed.  In  my  travelling 
clothes  I  ran  there,  and  begged  for  the  address  of  the  widow 
Black,  that  I  might  previously  ascertain  if  the  countess 
had  arrived  in  Livorno.  A  male  servant  conducted  me  to 
the  widow's,  who  lived  in  a  remote  street  in  a  very  plain, 
private  house.  How  great  was  my  chagrin  when  I  was 
told  that  Madam  Black  was  absent,  and  that  I  should  call 
again  in  two  hours.  Every  lost  moment  was  like  a  theft 
upon  my  life. 

I  called  again  ;  and  an  old  servant  opened  the  door,  con- 
ducted me  up  stairs,  and  announced  me  to  her  mistress.  I 
was  invited  to  walk  into  a  very  plainly  ornamented,  but 
neat  room.  Opposite  the  door  sat  a  lady  upon  a  couch, 
who  however  did  not  seem  to  take  any  notice  of  my  en- 
trance. She  did  not  return  my  salutation,  but  endeavoured, 
with  both  hands  before  her  face,  to  conceal  her  sobbing 
and  weeping. 

A  feverish  shudder  ran  all  over  me ;  as  in  the  appearance 
of  the  widow,  and  in  the  sounds  of  her  sobbing,  I  recognised 
the  form  and  voice  cf  Hortensia.  Without  consideration, 
and  assuring  myself  of  the  certainty,  I  dropt  my  hat  and 
cane,  and  cast  myself  at  the  feet  of  the  weeper.  Who  can 
tell  what  feeling  then  came  over  me,  as  the  arms  of  Hor- 
tensia encircled  my  neck  ?  All  the  past  was  forgotten,  in 
the  rose-coloured  future.  Never  was  love  more  beautifully 
requited,  or  truth  more  happily  rewarded.  The  first  day  of 
our  meeting  so  little  was  asked  and  answered?  and  that  little 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE, 


371 


so  unconnectedly,  that  we  both  parted  without  knowing 
more  of  each  other,  than  that  we  had  actually  met. 

On  the  following  day,  I  was  in  readiness,  according  to 
Hortensia's  invitation,  to  take  breakfast  with  her.  Her  do- 
mestics consisted  of  a  cook,  a  waiting  maid,  a  chamber-maid, 
a  coachman,  and  a  footboy.  All  her  table-plate  was  of  the 
finest  porcelain  and  silver,  but  none  of  it  bore  the  old  count's 
coat  of  arms.  This  aspect  of  prosperity,  that  went  en- 
tirely contrary  to  my  first  conceit,  and  far  beyond  the 
power  of  my  own  wealth,  overthrew  all  the  plans  which  I 
had  dreamed  of  from  Gaeta  to  Livorno.  I  expected,  and 
even  wished,  to  find  Hortensia  in  embarrassed  circum- 
stances, that  I  might  be  able  with  greater  assurance  to  offer 
her  my  all.    Now  I  stood  before  her,  the  poor  painter  ! 

I  did  not  conceal  from  her  in  our  confidential  conversa- 
tions, what  I  had  heard  in  Gaeta  from  Cecilie,  and  what 
sensations,  what  projects,  what  hopes  had  been  awakened 
by  it.  I  painted  to  her  the  whole  series  of  my  demolished 
dreams,  how  she  perhaps  might  give  up  the  cruel  design 
to  bury  her  youth  and  her  qualifications  within  the  walls  of 
a  cloister — how  she  might  be  contented  to  select  me  for 
her  servant  and  true  friend, — how  I  would  lay  my  savings 
and  all  the  gains  of  my  future  industry  at  her  feet.  I 
painted  to  her  with  affectionate  hope  the  comfort  of  civic 
life  in  some  solitude — the  simple  cottage  with  a  small  gar- 
den beside  it,  and  the  office  of  the  artist  whom  her  presence 
would  inspire. 

Hortensia  arose  ;  walked  to  the  closet ;  drew  out  a  little 
box  of  ebony,  richly  inlaid  with  silver,  and  handed  it  to 
me,  together  with  the  key.  "  To  give  you  this,  I  have  re- 
quested you  to  come  to  Livorno.  It  is  a  part,  and  yet  not 
a  part  of  the  fulfilment  of  your  dreams.  After  my  father's 
death,  it  was  my  first  thought  to  fulfil  the  duties  of  my 
gratitude  toward  you.    Since  you  fled  from  Battaglia,  I 


872 


HORTENSIA  *. 


have  never  lost  sight  of  you.  The  letter  that  your  servant 
wrote  from  Ravenna  to  one  of  his  friends  in  my  attend- 
ance, and  which  communicated  to  him  the  plan  of  your 
journey,  by  a  fortunate  accident  fell  into  my  hands.  Mr. 
Tufaldini,  from  Naples,  was  induced  by  me,  in  a  secret 
conversation,  to  befriend  you.  He  received  payment  of 
all  your  expenses,  and  even  for  your  support,  should  it  be 
necessary.  I  have  rewarded  him  for  his  trouble  ;  notwith- 
standing the  honest  man  accepted  of  my  presents  with 
great  reluctance.  In  return,  I  had  the  pleasure  to  receive 
intelligence  of  your  comfort.  Tufaldini's  letters,  after  our 
separation,  were  my  only  recreation.  After  the  death  of 
my  father,  I  separated  from  my  family,  on  account  of  some 
difficulties  respecting  the  property.  The  estates  are  left  in 
the  hands  of  agents.  The  balance  I  turned  into  money.  I 
thought  no  more  of  returning  to  the  place  of  my  nativity. 
My  last  refuge  was  a  cloister.  Under  the  pretence  of 
poverty,  I  separated  from  all  the  former  acquaintances  of 
my  father,  and  from  every  one  of  my  former  domestics.  I 
took  the  rank  and  name  of  a  citizen,  that  I  might  live  more 
concealed  and  for  myself.  After  I  had  accomplished  all 
my  first  plan,  I  summoned  you  to  end  my  work,  and  dissolve 
my  vow  that  I  had  made  to  heaven.  The  moment  is  at 
hand.  You  have  told  me  of  your  dreams,  return  with  me 
for  a  little  while  to  the  reality." 

She  opened  the  box,  and  took  out  of  it  a  packet  of  care- 
fully-secured papers,  addressed  to  my  name,  broke  open  the 
seals  ;  laid  before  me  an  instrument  of  writing  made  out  by 
a  notary  public,  wherein  partly  in  sums  to  be  paid  to  me, 
and  partly  in  accumulated  interests,  that  were  mine,  and 
partly  as  an  inheritance  from  the  property  of  the  widow 
Marian  Black,  in  bank  notes  and  different  estates,  an  enor- 
mous sum  was  bequeathed  to  me. 

"  This,-dear  Faust," — the  countess  continued, — "is  your 


ASLEEP  AND  AWAKE, 


373 


property,  your  well-laboured  for,  and  well-deserved  property. 
I  have  no  longer  any  part  in  it  I  have  enough  left  for  a 
decent  subsistence.  When  I  renounce  the  world,  and  am 
an  inmate  of  a  cloister,  you  will  be  the  heir  of  the  remain- 
der of  my  property.  If  I  am  indeed  dear  to  you,  you  will 
prove  it  by  an  eternal  silence  respecting  my  person,  my 
rank,  and  my  true  name  ;  moreover,  that  you  do  not  utter  a 
syllable,  that  may  be  interpreted  as  a  refusal  or  tffanks,  for 
this  your  own  property.  Will  you  give  me  your  hand  on 
that?" 

I  heard  her  recital  with  astonishment  and  pain,  cast  the 
papers  aside,  and  said  :  "  Do  you  then  believe,  that  these 
bank  notes  are  of  any  value  to  me  ? — I  will  neither  refuse 
them,  nor  thank  you  for  them.  When  you  go  to  a  cloister, 
I  can  dispense  with  every  thing  in  this  world.  What  you 
give  to  me,  is  mere  dust.  Ah,  Hortensia,  you  once  said, 
that  it  was  my  soul  which  enlivened  you.  If  it  were  so,  you 
would  not  scruple  to  follow  my  example.  I  will  burn  these 
bank  notes.  Of  what  use  are  they  to  me  ?  Destroy  also 
your  own  property.  Oh  become  poor  and  mine  ! — Horten- 
sia !  " — With  both  her  hands  she  took  mine  ;  and  said 
with  energy,  and  with  tears  in  her  eyes :  "  Am  I  not  yours 
already,  Immanuel?" 

"But  the  cloister  ?"  I  exclaimed. 

"  My  last  refuge  " — she  replied — "  when  you  desert  me." 

Then  we  made  our  covenant,  which  was  ratified  by  the 
minister ;  after  which  we  departed  from  Livorno,  and 
sought  this  luxuriant  solitude,  where  we  now  constantly  re- 
side with  our  children. 


THE  END. 


A  CATALOGUE  OF 

BOOHS, 

IN  THE  VARIOUS  DEPARTMENTS  OF  LITERATURE, 

PUBLISHED  BY 

D.  APPLETON  &  Co.,  New-York, 

AND 

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AGRICULTURE. 

Falkner  on  Manures. 

Smith's  Productive  Farming. 

Farmer's  Treasure,  by  Falkner  and  Smith. 

ARTS,  MANUFACTURES,  &c. 

Ewbank's  Mechanics  and  Hydraulics. 
Hodge  on  the  Steam-Engine. 
Lafever's  Modern  Architecture. 

M       Stair-case  Construction. 
Ure's  Dictionary  of  Arts,  Manuf.,  and  Mines. 

BIOGRAPHY. 
Hamilton  (Alex.),  Life  of. 
Philip's  Life  of  Milne. 

CHEMISTRY. 
Fresenius's  Chemical  Analysis. 
Liebig's  Chemical  Letters. 
Parnell's  Applied  Chemistry. 

EDUCATION". 

Hazen's  Symbolical  Speller. 

Keightley's  Mythology  of  Greece  and  Italy. 

Taylor's  Home  Education 

HISTORY. 
Frost's  History  of  United  States  Navy. 
u  "  Army. 


Guizot's  History  of  Civilization. 
L'Ardeche's  History  of  Napoleon. 
Taylor's  Natural  History  of  Society. 

JUVENILE. 

Boone,  Daniel,  Adventures  o£ 
Boy's  Manual. 

Cameron's  Farmer's  Daughter. 

Child's  Delight. 

Copley's  Early  Friendships. 

Copley's  Poplar  Giove. 

Cortes,  Adventures  of. 

De  Foe's  Robinson  Crusoe. 

Evans's  Joan  of  Arc. 

"      Evenings  with  the  Chroniclers. 
Guizot's  Young  Student. 
Girl's  Manual. 
Holyday  Tales. 
Howitt's  Love  and  Money. 

"      Work  and  Wages. 

"      Little  Coin,  much  Care. 

u       Which  is  the  Wiser? 

"       Who  shall  be  Greatest? 

"       Hope  on,  Hope  ever. 

M      Strive  and  Thrive. 

"      Sowing  and  Reaping. 

"      No  Sense  like  Common  Sense. 

"      Alice  Franklin. 
Jerram's  Child's  Story-Book, 


Applet 07i' 's  Catalogue  of  Valuable  Publications. 


Looking-Glass  for  the  Mind. 
Lucy  and  Arthur 
Log  Cabin,  or  World  before  Yon. 
Martineau's  Crofton  Boys. 

"         Peasant  and  Prince. 
Marrvat's  Masterman  Readv. 
Old  Oak  Tree. 
Prize  Story  Book. 
Pratt's  Duwnings  of  Genius. 
Sandham's  Twin  Sisters. 
Smith,  Capt.,  Adventures  of. 
Sherwood's  Doty  is  Safety. 

"         Jack  the  Sailor. 

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Taylor's  Young  Islandeis. 
Very  Little  Tales. 
Youth's  Book  of  Nature. 

MEDICAL. 

Chavasse's  Advice  to  Mothers. 
Hall's  Principles  of  Diagnosis. 
Smith  on  Nervous  System. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 
Arthur's  Tired  of  Housekeeping. 
Austin's  German  Writers. 
Carlyle's  Heroes,  Hero  Worship. 
Cotton's  Exiles  of  Siberia. 
D'Israeli's  Curiosities  of  Literature. 
Deleuze  on  Animal  Magnetism. 
Ellis's  Mothers  of  England. 

';     Wives  of  England. 

w     Daughters  of  England, 

"     Women  of  England. 

M     First  Impressions. 

"     Danger  of  Dining  Out. 

«     Somerville  HaU. 
Embury's  Nature's  Gems. 
Foster's  Miscellanies. 

"      Christian  Morals. 
Goldsmith's  Vicar  of  Wakefield. 

"  Essays. 
Johnson's  Rasselas. 
Lover's  Handy  Andy. 

"      £.  s.  d. — Treasure  Trove. 
Maxwell's  Hector  O'Halloran. 
More's  Domestic  Tales. 

"     Rural  Tales. 
Pure  Gold. 

Sinclair's  Scotland  and  Scotch. 

"       Shetland  and  Shetlanders. 
St.  Pierre's  Paul  and  Virginia. 
Taylor's  Physical  Theory  of  Another  Life. 
Useful  Letter-Writer. 
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POETRY. 

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Hemans's  Poetical  Works. 

"       Songs  of  the  Affections. 
Lewis's  Records  of  the  Heart 
Milton's  Poetical  Works. 
"      Paradise  Lost. 
"  "  Regained. 

Moore's  Lallah  Rookh. 
Pollok's  Course  of  Time. 
Scott's  Poetical  Works. 
"     Lady  of  the  Lake. 
"  Marmion. 

"     Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel. 
Southey's  Poetical  Works. 
Thomson's  Seasons. 
Token  of  Affection,  by  various  writers. 

n  Friendship. 


Token  of  Love. 

"     the  Heart. 

"  Remembrance. 
Young's  Night  Thoughts. 

RELIGIOUS. 

A  Kempis's  Imitation  of  Christ. 
Anthon's  Catechism  on  Homilies. 
Bea"en's  Help  to  Catechising. 
Bible  Expositor. 
Book  of  Common  Prayer. 
Burnet's  Hist,  of  Reformation. 

"      Exposition  of  XXXIX  Articles. 
Bradley's  Practical  Sermons. 

"       Sermons  at  Clapham  and  GJasbory. 
Churton's  Early  English  Church. 
Christmas  Bells. 
Cruden's  Concordance,  N.  T. 
Clarke's  Scripture  Promises. 
Evans's  Rectory  of  Valehead. 
Faber  on  Election. 
Gresley  on  Preaching. 

"     English  Churchman. 
Hare's  Sermons. 
Hooker's  Works. 
James's  True  Christian. 
"      Widow  Directed. 
**      Young  Man  from  Home. 
"      Christian  Professor. 
"      Anxious  Inquirer  after  Salvation. 
"      Happiness,  its  Nature  and  Source*. 
Kip's  Double  Witness. 
Kingsley's  Sacred  Choir. 
Lyra  Apostolica. 
Magee  on  Atonement. 
Manning  on  Unity  of  the  Church. 
Marshall's  Notes  on  Episcopacy. 
More's  Private  Devotion. 

"    Piactical  Piety. 
Maurice's  Kingdom  of  Christ. 
Newman's  Parochial  Seimons. 

"  Sermons  on  Subjects  of  the  Day. 
Ogilby  on  Lay-Baptism, 

"    Lectures  on  the  Church. 
Palmer  on  the  Church. 
Paget's  Tales  of  the  Village. 
Pearson  on  the  Creed. 
Philip's  Devotional  Guides. 
"     The  Hannahs. 
"     The  Marys. 
"     The  Marthas. 
"     The  Lydias. 
"     Love  of  the  Spirit. 
Sherlock's  Practical  Christian. 
Smith  on  Scripture  and  Geology. 
Spencer's  Christian  Instructed. 
Spincke's  Manual  of  Devotion. 
Sprague's  Lectures  to  Young  People. 

"        True  and  False  Religion. 
Sutton's  Learn  to  Live. 
"      Learn  to  Die. 
"      On  Sacrament. 
Stuart's  Letters  to  Godchild. 
Taylor  on  Episcopacy. 
"     Golden  Grove. 
"     Spiritual  Christianity. 
Wayland's  Human  Responsibility. 
Wilson's  Sacra  Privata. 
Wilberforce's  Communicant's  Manual. 

VOYAG-ES  AND  TRAVELS, 

Cooley's  American  in  Egypt. 
Olmsted's  Whaling  Voyage. 
Silliman's  Amencan  Scenery. 
Southgate's  Turkey  and  Persia. 


Appleton's  Catalogue  of  Valuable  Publications 


BURNET— THE  HISTORY  CF  THE  REFORMATION 

Of  the  Church  of  England,  by  Gilbert  Burnet,  I).  D.,  late  Lord  Bishop  of 
Salisbury — with  the  Collection  of  Records  and  a  copious  Index,  revised 
and  corrected,  with  additional  Notes  and  a  Preface,  by  the  Rev.  E. 
Nares,  D.  D.,late  Professor  of  Modern  History  in  the  University  of  Oxford. 
Illustrated  with  a  Frontispiece  and  twenty-three  engraved  Portraits,  form- 
ing four  elegant  8vo.  volumes.    $8  00. 
A  cheap  edition  is  printed,  containing  the  History  in  three  vols,  without  the 
Records — which  form  the  fourth  vol.  of  the  above.    Price,  in  boards,  $2  50. 
To  the  student  either  of  civil  or  religious  history,  no  epoch  can  be  of  more  importance  than 
that  of  the  Reformation  in  Engl  aid.    The  History  of  Bishop  Burnet  is  one  of  the  most  celebrated 
and  hv  far  the  most  frequently  quoted  of  any  that  has  been  written  of  this  great  event.    Upon  tho 
original  publication  of  the  first  volume,  it  was  received  in  Great  Britain  with  the  loudest  and 
most  extravagant  encomiums.    The  author  received  the  thanks  of  both  Houses  of  Parliament, 
and  was  requested  by  them  to  continue  the  work.    In  continuing  it,  he  had  the  assistance  of  the 
most  learned  and  eminent  divines  of  his  time;  and  he  confesses  his  indebtedness  for  important 
aid  to  Lloyd,  Tiliotson,  and  Stillingfleet,  three  of  the  greatest  of  England's  Bishops. 

The  present  edition  of  this  great  work  lias  been  edited  with  laborious  care  by  Dr.  Nares,  who 
professes  to  have  corrected  important  errors  info  which  the  author  fell,  and  to  have  made  such 
improvements  in  the  order  of  the  work  as  will  render  it  far  more  useful  to  the  reader  or  historical 
student.  Preliminary  explanations,  full  and  sufficient  to  the  clear  understanding  of  the  author, 
are  given,  and  marginal  references  are  made  throughout  the  book,  so  as  greatly  to  facilitate  and 
lender  accurate  its  consultation.  It  will  of  course  find  a  place  in  every  theologian's  libraiy — and 
will,  by  no  means,  we  trust,  be  confined  to  that  comparatively  limited  sphere  — J\T.  Y.  Tribune. 

BURNET— AN  EXPOSITION  OF  THE  XXXIX  ARTICLES 

Of  the  Church  of  England.  By  Gilbert  Burnet,  D.  D.,  late  Bishop  of  Salisbury. 
With  an  Appendix,  containing  the  Augsburg  Confession,  Creed  of  Pope 
Pius  IV.,  &c.  Revised  and  corrected,  with  copious  Notes  and  Additional 
References,  by  the  Rev.  James  R.  Page,  A.  M.  One  handsome  8vo.  vol- 
ume.   $2  00. 

The  editor  has  given  to  our  clergy  and  our  students  in  theology  an  edition  of  this  work,  which 
must  necessarily  supersede  every  other,  and  we  feel  he  deserves  well  at  the  hands  of  the  Church, 
which  he  has  so  materially  served. — Church  of  England  Quarterly  Review. 

BURNS— THE  COMPLETE  POETICAL  WORKS 

Of  Robert  Burns,  with  Explanatory  and  Glossarial  Notes,  and  a  Life  of  the 
Author,  by  James  Currie,  M.  D.,  illustrated  with  six  steel  engravings,  one 
volume,  16mo.    $1  25. 
Forming  one  of  the  series  of  "Cabinet  Edition  of  Standard  British  Poets." 

This  is  the  most  complete  American  edition  of  Burns  It  contains  the  whole  of  the  poetry  com- 
prised in  the  edition  lately  edited  by  Cunningham,  as  well  as  some  additional  pieces  ;  and  such 
notes  have  been  added  as  are  calculated  to  illustrate  the  manners  and  customs  of  Scotland,  so  as 
to  render  the  whole  more  intelligible  to  the  English  reader. 

He  owes  nothing  to  the  poetry  of  oiher  lands — he  is  the  offspring  of  the  soil :  he  is  as  natural 
to  Scotland  as  the  heath  is  to  her  hills— his  variety  is  equal  to  his  originality;  his  humour,  his 
cayety,  his  tenderness  and  his  pathos,  come  all  in  a  breath;  they  come  freely,  for  they  come  of 
their  own  accord  ;  the  contrast  is  never  offensive  ;  the  comic  slides  easily  into  the  serious,  the 
serious  into  the  tender,  and  the  tender  into  the  pathetic—  Allan  Cunningham. 

CAMERON— THE  FARMER'S  DAUGHTER: 

A  Tale  of  Humble  Life,  by  Mrs.  Cameron,  author  of"  Emma  and  Her  Nurse,'' 
"  the  Two  Mothers,"  etc  ,  etc.,  one  volume,  18mo.,  frontispiece.  37  1-2  cts. 
We  welcome,  in  this  little  volume,  a  valuable  addition  to  the  excellent  series  of  "  Tales  for 

the  People  and  their  Children."    The  story  conveys  high  moral  truths,  in  a  most  attractive  form. 

— Hunt's  Merchant's  Mag. 

CARLYLE,— ON  HEROES,  HERO  WORSHIP, 

And  the  Heroic  in  History.  Six  Lectures,  reported  with  Emendations  and  Ad- 
ditions, by  Thomas  Carlyle,  author  of  the  "  French  Revolution,"  "Sartor 
Resartus,"  &c.   Elegantly  printed  in  one  vol.  12mo.   Second  edition.  $1. 

CHILD'S  DELIGHT; 

A  Gift  for  the  Young.  Edited  by  a  lady.  One  volume  small  4to.  Embel- 
lished with  six  steel  Engravings  coloured  in  the  most  attractive  style. 

This  is  the  gem  of  the  season.  In  style  of  embellishment  and  originality  of  matter,  it  stand* 
alone.    We  cordially  recommend  the  volume  to  our  juvenile  friends. — U.  S.  Gazette. 


Appleton*s  Catalogue  of  Valuable  Publications. 


ELLIS— THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  ENGLAND; 

Their  position  in  Society,  Character,  and  Responsihilities.    By  Mrs.  Ellis. 
In  one  handsome  volume,  12mo.,  cloth  gilt.    50  cents. 

ELLIS, — THE  WOMEN  OF  ENGLAND; 

Their  Social  Duties  and  Domestic  Habits.    By  Mrs.  Ellis.    One  handsome 
volume,  12mo.,  cloth  gilt.    50  cents. 

ELLIS— THE  WIVES  OF  ENGLAND; 

Tlieir  Relative  Duties,  Domestic  Influences,  and  Social  Obligations.    By  Mrs. 
Ellis.    One  handsome  volume,  12mo.,  cloth  gilt.    50  cents. 

ELLIS.— THE  MOTHERS  OF  ENGLAND  ; 

Their  Influence  and  Responsibility.    By  Mrs.  Ellis.    One  handsome  volume, 
12mo.,  cloth  gilt.    50  cents. 

This  is  an  appropriate  and  very  valuable  conclusion  to  the  series  of  works  on  the  subject  of 
female  duties,  by  which  Mrs.  Ellis  has  pleased,  and  we  doubt  not  profited,  thousands  of  readers. 
Her  counsels  demand  attention,  not  only  by  their  practical,  sagacious  usefulness,  but  also  by  the 
meek  and  modest  spirit  in  which  they  are  communicated. —  Watchman. 

ELLIS.— THE  MINISTER'S  FAMILY; 

Or  Hints  to  those  who  would  make  Home  happy.    By  Mrs.  Ellis.    One  vol- 
ume, 18mo.    37  1-2  cents. 

ELLIS— FIRST  IMPRESSIONS; 

Or  Hints  to  those  who  would  make  Home  happy.  By  Mis.  Ellis.  One  vol 
I      ume,  ]8mo.    37  1-2  cents. 

ELLIS. — DANGERS  OF  DINING  OUT; 

Or  Hints  to  those  who  would  make  Home  happy.    By  Mrs.  Ellis.    One  vol 
ume,  18mo.    37  1-2  cents. 

ELLIS— SOMERVILLE  HALL; 

Or  Hints  to  those  who  would  make  Home  happy.    By  Mrs.  Ellis.    One  vol- 
ume, 18mo.    37  1-2  cents. 
The  above  four  volumes  form  a  portion  of  series  of"  Tales  for  the  People  and  their  Children." 

"  To  wish  prosperity  to  such  books  as  these,  is  to  desire  the  moral  and  physical  welfare  of  the 
human  species." — Bath  Chronicle. 


EVANS.— EVENINGS  WITH  THE  CHRONICLERS; 

Or  Uncle  Rupert's  Tales  of  Chivalry.    By  R.  M.  Evans.    With  seventeen 
illustrations.    One  volume,  16mo."^  elegantly  bound,  75  cents. 

This  would  have  been  a  volume  after  our  own  hearts,  while  we  were  younger,  and  it  is 
scarcely  less  so  now  when  we  are  somewhat  older.  It  discourses  of  those  things  which  charmed 
all  of  us  in  early  youth — the  daring  deeds  of  the  Knights  and  Squires  of  feudal  warfare — the  true 
version  of  the  "  Chevy  Chase," — the  exploits  of  the  stout  and  stalwart  Warriors  of  England, 
Scotland,  and  Germany.  In  a  word,  it  is  an  attractive  book,  and  rendered  more  so  to  young  read- 
ers by  a  seiies  of  wood  engravings,  beautifully  executed. —  Courier  $  Enquirer. 

EVANS— THE  HISTORY  OF  JOAN  OF  ARC. 

By  R.  M.  Evans,  author  of  "Evenings  with  the  Cbroniclers,"  with  tvventy- 
four  elegant  illustrations.  One  volume,  16mo.  Extra  gilt.  75  cents. 
In  the  work  before  us,  we  have  not  only  a  most  interesting  biography  of  this  female  prodigy, 
including  what  she  was  and  what  she  accomplished,  but  also  a  faithful  account  of  the  relations 
that  existed  between  England  and  France,  and  of  the  singular  state  of  things  that  marked  the 
period  when  this  wonderful  personage  appeared  upon  the  stage.  The  leading  incidents  of  her 
life  are  related  with  exquisite  simplicity  and  touching  pathos  ;  and  you  cannot  repress  your  admi- 
ration for  her  heroic  qualities,  or  scarcely  repress  your  tears  in  view  of  her  ignominious  end.  To 
the  youthful  reader  wc  heartily  recommend  this  volume. — Albany  Advertiser. 


Appleton's  Catalogue  of  Valuable  Publications. 


EVANS— THE  RECTORY  OF  VALEHEAD; 

Or,  the  Records  of  a  Holy  Home.  By  the  Rev.  R.  W.  Evans.  From  the 
twelfth  English  edition.    One  volume,  16mo.    75  cents. 

Universally  and  cordially  do  wo  recommend  this  delightful  volume  We  heliove  no  person 
could  read  this  work,  and  not  be  the  better  for  its  pious  and  touching  lessons.  It  is  a  page  taken 
from  the  book  of  life,  and  eloquent  with  all  the  instruction  of  an  excellent  pattern  ;  it  is  a  com- 
mentary on  the  affectionate  warning,  "  Remember  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy  youth."  We 
have  not  for  some  time  seen  a  work  we  could  so  deservedly  praise,  or  so  conscientiously  recom- 
Ek&bd  — Literary  Gazette. 

EMBURY-NATURE'S  GEMS;  OR,  AMERICAN  FLOWERS 

I    In  their  Native  Haunts.    By  Emma  C.  Embury.    With  twenty  plates  of  Plants 
carefully  colored  after  Nature,  and  landscape  views  of  their  localities, 
from  drawings  taken  on  the  spot,  by  E.  W.-Whitefield.    One  imperial  oc- 
tavo volume,  printed  on  the  finest  paper,  and  elegantly  bound. 
This  beautiful  work  will  undoubtedly  form  a  "Gift -Book"  for  all  seasons  of  the  year.    It  is 
illustrated  with  twenty  colored  engravings  of  indigenous  flowers,  taken  from  drawings  made  on 
the  spot  where  they  were  found  ;  while  each  flower  is  accompanied  by  a  view  of  some  striking 
feature  of  American  scenery.    The  literary  plan  of  the  book  differs  entirely  from  that  of  any  other 
work  on  a  similar  subject  which  has  yet  appeared.    Each  plate  has  its  botanical  and  local  de- 
scription, though  the  chief  part  of  the  volume  is  composed  of  original  tales  and  poetry,  illustrative 
of  the  sentin^  nts  of  the  flowers,  or  associated  with  the  landscape.    No  pains  or  expense  has  been 
spared  in  the  mechanical  execution  of  tho  volume,  and  the  fact  that  it  is  purely  American  both 
in  its  graphic  and  literary  departments,  should  recommend  it  to  general  notice. 

EWBANK— HYDRAULICS  AND  MECHANICS. 

A  Descriptive  and  Historical  Account  of  Hydraulic  and  other  Machines  for 
raising  Water,  including  the  Steam  and  Fire  Engines,  ancient  and  modern  ; 
with  Observations  on  various  subjects  connected  with  the  Mechanic  Arts  ; 
including  the  Progressive  Development  of  the  Steam  Engine.    In  five 
books.    Illustrated  by  nearly  three  hundred  Engravings.    By  Thomas 
Ewbank.    One  handsome  volume  of  six  hundred  pages.    $3  50. 
This  is  a  highly  valuable  production,  replete  with  novelty  and  interest,  and  adapted  to  gratify 
equally  the  historian,  the  philosopher,  and  the  mechanician,  being  the  result  of  a  protracted  and 
extensive  research  among  the  arcana  of  historical  and  scientific  literature. — JVa£.  Intelligencer. 

FABER— THE  PRIMITIVE  DOCTRINE  OF  ELECTION; 

Or,  an  Historical  Inquiry  into  the  Ideality  and  Causation  of  Scriptural  Elec- 
tion, as  received  and  maintained  in  the  primitive  Church  of  Christ.  By 
George  Stanley  Faber,  B.  D.,  author  of  "Difficulties  of  Romanism,' 
"Difficulties  of  Infidelity,"  &c.    Complete  in  one  volume,  octavo.  $1  75. 

Mr.  Faber  verifies  his  opinion  by  demonstration.  We  cannot  pay  a  higher  respect  to  his  work 
than  by  recommending  it  to  all. — Church  of  England  Quarterly  Review. 

FALKNER  —  THE  FARMER'S  MANUAL. 

A  Practical  Treatise  on  the  Nature  and  Value  of  Manures,  founded  from 
Experiments  on  various  Crops,  with  a  brief  Account  of  the  most  Recent 
Discoveries  in  Agricultural  Chemistry.    By  F.  Falkner  and  the  Author  of 
"  British  Husbandry."    12mo.,  paper  cover  31  cents,  cloth  50  cents. 
It  is  the  object  of  the  present  treatise  to  explain  the  nature  and  constitution  of  manures  gene- 
rally— to  point  out  the  means  of  augmenting  the  quantity  and  preserving  the  fertilizing  power  of 
farm-yard  manure,  the  various  sources  of  mineral  and  other  artificial  manures,  and  the  cause  of 
their  frequent  failuies. — Author's  Preface. 

FARMER'S  TREASURE,  THE  ; 

Containing  "  Falkner's  Farmer's  Manual,"  and  "  Smith's  Productive  Farm- 
ing," bound  together.    12mo.,  75  cents. 

FOSTER— ESSAYS  ON  CHRISTIAN  MORALS, 

Experimental  and  Practical.  Originally  delivered  as  Lectures  at  Broadmead 
Chapel,  Bristol.  By  John  Foster,  author  of  "  Essays  on  Decision  of  Char- 
acter," etc.    One  volume,  18mo.,  50  cents. 

This  volume  contains  twenty-six  Essays,  some  of  which  are  of  the  highest  order  of  sublimity 
and  excellence. 

9 


r*j    Eton's  Catalogue  of  Valuable  Publications. 


FOSTER.— BiOG.,  LIT.,  AMD  PHIL.  ESSAYS, 

Contributed  to  the  Eclectic  Review,  by  John  Foster,  author  of  "  Essays  on  De- 
cision of  Human  Character,"  etc.  One  volume,  12mo.,  ftl  25. 
These  contributions  well  deserve  to  class  with  those  of  Macaoley,  Jeffrey,  and  Sidney  Smith, 
in  the  Edinburgh  Review.  They  contain  the  productions  of  a  more  original  and  profound  thinker 
than  either,  whose  master-mind  has  exerted  a  stronger  influence  upon  his  readers,  and  has  left  a 
deeper  impression  upon  our  literature  ;  and  whose  peculiar  merit  it  was  to  present  the  doctrines 
and  moralities  of  the  Christian  faith,  under  a  form  and  aspect  which  redeemed  the  familiar  from 
triteness,  and  threw  a  ch  irm  and  freshness  about  the  severest  truths. — London  Patriot. 

FROST— THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NAVY: 

Comprising  a  General  History  of  the  American  Marine,  and  particular  accounts 
of  all  the  most  celebrated  Naval  Battles,  from  the  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence to  the  present  time,  compiled  from  the  best  authorities.  By  John 
Frost,  LL.  D.  With  an  Appendix,  containing  Naval  Songs,  Anecdotes, 
&c.  Embellished  with  numerous  original  Engravings,  and  Portraits  of 
distinguished  Naval  Commanders.    One  volume,  12mo.,  $1  00. 

This  is  the  only  popul  ir  and  yet  authentic  single  view  which  we  have  of  the  naval  exploits  of 
our  country,  arranged  with  good  tiste  and  set  forth  in  good  language  — (J.  S.  Gazette. 

This  volume  is  dedicated  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  and  is  altogether  a  very  faithful  and 
attractive  historical  record.  It  deserves,  and  will  doubtless  have,  a  very  extended  circulation 
— Nat  Intelligencer. 

FROST— THE  BOOK  OF  THE  ARMY: 

Comprising  a  General  Military  History  of  the  United  States,  from  the  period 
of  the  Revolution  to  the  present  time,  with  particular  accounts  of  all  the 
most  celebrated  Battles,  compiled  from  the  best  authorities.    By  John 
Frost,  LL.  D.    Illustrated  with  numerous  Engravings,  and  portraits  of 
distinguished  Commanders.    One  volume,  12mo.,  $1  00. 
This  work  gives  a  complete  history  of  military  operations,  and  their  causes  and  effects,  from 
the  opening  of  the  Revolution  to  the  close  of  the  last  war,  with  graphic  descriptions  of  the  cele- 
brated battles  and  characters  of  the  leading  generals.    It  is  illustrated  with  numerous  portraits  on 
steel  and  views  of  battles,  from  original  drawings  by  Darley  and  others.    The  importance  of  pop- 
ular works  of  the  class  to  which  this  and  the  u  Book  of  the  Navy"  belong,  must  be  obvious  to  all 
who  recognize  the  value  of  national  recollections  in  preserving  a  true  national  spirit. 

FRESENIUS.— CHEMICAL  ANALYSIS. 

Elementary  Instruction  in  Chemical  Analysis.  By  Dr.  C.  Rhemigius  Frese- 
nius.  With  a  Preface  by  Prof.  Liebig.  Edited  by  I.  Lloyd  Bullock.  One 
neat  volume,  12mo.    Paper,  75  cents  ;  cloth,  $1  00. 

This  Introduction  to  Practical  Chemistry  is  admitted  to  be  the  most  valuable  Elementary  In- 
structor in  Chemical  Analysis  fo  scientific  operatives,  and  for  pharmaceutical  chemists,  which  has 
ever  been  presented  to  the  public. 

GUIZOT. — THE  YOUNG  STUDENT; 

Or,  Ralph  and  Victor.  By  Madame  Guizot.  From  the  French,  by  Samuel 
Jackson.  One  volume  of  500  pages,  with  illustrations.  Price  75  cents,  or 
in  three  volumes,  $1  12. 

This  volume  of  biographical  incidents  is  a  striking  picture  of  juvenile  life  To  all  that  num- 
berless class  of  youth  who  are  passing  through  their  literary  education,  whether  in  boarding- 
schools  or  academies,  in  the  collegiate  course,  or  the  preparatory  studies  connected  with  them,  we 
know  nothing  more  piecisely  fitted  to  meliorate  their  character,  and  direct  their  course,  subordi- 
nate to  the  higher  authority  of  Christian  ethics,  than  this  excellent  delineation  of  "  The  Young 
Student,"  by  Madame  Guizot.  *  *  *  The  French  Academy  were  correct  in  their  judgment, 
when  they  pronounced  Madame  Cuizot's  Student  the  best  book  of  the  year.—  Courier  Enquirer. 

GUIZOT.— GENERAL  HISTORY  OF  CIVILIZATION 

In  Europe,  from  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire  to  the  French  Revolution. 
Translated  from  the  French  of  M.  Guizot,  Professor  of  History  to  la  Facul- 
te  des  Lettres  of  Paris,  and  Minister  of  Public  Instruction.  Third  Ameri- 
can edition,  with  Notes,  by  C.  S.  Henry,  D.  D.  One  handsome  volume, 
12mo.,  $1  00. 

M.  Guizot  in  his  instructive  Lectures  has  given  us  an  epitome  of  modern  history,  distinguished 
by  all  the  merit  which,  in  another  department,  renders  Blackstone  a  subject  of  such  peculiar  and 
unbounded  praise — a  work  closely  condensed,  including  nothing  useless,  omitting  nothing  cssen 
tial ;  written  with  grace,  and  conceived  and  arranged  with  consummate  ability. — Bost.  Traveller 

10 


Appleton's  Catalogue  of  Valuable  Publications. 


HOWITT.— LOVE  AND  MONEY; 

An  Every-Day  Talc,  by  Mary  Howitt.  18nio.,  two  Plates,  cloth  gilt,  38  cents 
 LITTLE  COIN,  MUCH  CARE; 

Or,  How  Poor  People  Live.  By  Mary  Howitt.  18mo.,  two  Plates,  38  cents. 
 SOWING  AND  REAPING; 

Or,  What  will  Come  of  It.  By  Mary  Howitt.  18mo.,  two  Plates,  38  cents. 
 ALICE  FRANKLIN  ; 

A  Sequel  to  Sowing  and  Reaping — a  Tale.    By  Mary  Howitt.    18mo.  two 
Piates,  cloth  gilt,  38  cents. 

 WORK  AND  WAGES; 

Or,  Life  in  Service — a  Tale.    By  Mary  Howitt.    18mo.,  two  Plates,  cloth 
gilt,  38  cents. 

 STRIVE  AND  THRIVE  ; 

A  Tale.    By  Mary  Howitt.    18mo.,  two  Plates,  cloth  gilt,  38  cents. 

 WHO  SHALL  BE  GREATEST; 

A  Tale.    By  Mary  Howitt.    18mo.,  two  Plates,  cloth  gilt,  38  cents. 

 WHICH  IS  THE  WISER; 

Or,  People  Abroad — a  Tale.  By  Mary  Howitt.  18mo.,  two  Plates,  38  cents. 
 HOPE  ON,  HOPE  EVER; 

Or,  The  Boyhood  of  Felix  Law — a  Tale.    By  Mary  Howitt.    18mo.,  two 
Plates,  cloth  gilt,  38  cents. 

 NO  SENSE  LIKE  COMMON  SENSE; 

A  Tale.    By  Mary  Howitt.    18mo.,  two  Plates,  cloth  gilt,  38  cents. 

***  The  above  ten  volumes  form  a  portion  of  the  series  published  under  the  general  title  of 
'•Tales  for  the  People  and  their  Children." 

Of  late  years  many  writers  have  exerted  their  talents  in  juvenile  literature,  with  great  success. 
Miss  Martineau  has  made  political  economy  as  familiar  to  boys  as  it  formerly  was  to  statesmen. 
Our  own  Miss  Sedgwick  has  produced  some  of  the  most  beautiful  moral  stories,  for  the  edification 
and  delight  of  children,  which  have  ever  been  written.  The  Hon.  Horace  Mann,  in  addresses  to 
adults,  has  presented  the  claims  of  children  for  good  education,  with  a  power  and  eloquence  of 
Btyte,  and  an  elevation  of  thought,  which  shows  his  heart  is  in  his  work.  The  stories  of  Mary 
Howitt  Harriet  Martineau,  Mrs.  Copley,  and  Mrs.  Ellis,  which  form  apart  of"  Tales  for  the  Peo- 
ple and  their  Children,"  will  be  found  valuable  additions  to  juvenile  literature  ;  at  the  same  time 
they  may  be  read  with  profit  by  parents  for  the  good  lessons  they  inculcate,  and  by  all  other  read- 
ers for  the  literary  excellence  they  display 

We  wish  they  could  be  placed  in  the  hands  and  engraven  on  the  minds  of  all  the  youln  in  the 
country-  They  manifest  a  nice  and  accurate  observation  of  human  nature,  and  especially  the  na- 
ture of  children,  a  fine  sympathy  with  every  thing  good  and  pure,  and  a  capability  of  infusing  it  in 
the  minds  of  others — great  beauty  and  simplicity  of  style,  and  a  keen  eye  to  practical  life,  with  all 
its  faults,  united  with  a  deep  love  for  ideal  excellence. 

Messrs  Appleton  oc  Co  deserve  the  highest  praise  for  the  excellent  manner  in  which  they 
have  "got  up"  their  juvenile  library,  and  we  sincerely  hope  that  its  success  will  be  so  great  as  to 
induce  them  to  make  continual  contributions  to  its  treasures.  The  collection  is  one  which  should 
bo  owned  by  every  pirentwho  wishes  that  the  moral  and  intellectual  improvement  of  his  children 
shouiJ  keop  pace  with  their  growth  in  years,  and  ths  development  of  their  physical  powers. — 
American  Traveller 

JERRAM. — THE  CHILD'S  OWN  STORY-BOOK; 

Or,  Tales  and  Dialogues  for  the  Nursery.    By  Mrs.  Jerram  (late  Jane  Eliza- 
beth Holmes).    Illustrated  with  numerous  Engravings.    50  cents. 

There  are  seventy  stories  in  this  volume  They  are  admirably  adapted  for  the  countless 
youth  for  whose  edification  they  are  narrated — Boston  Gazette. 

JOHNSON— THE  HISTORY  OF  RASSELAS, 

Prince  of  Abyssinia — a  Tale.    By  Samuel  Johnson,  LL.  D.    32mo.,  gilt 
leaves,  38  cents. 

***  Forming  one  of  the  series  of  "  Miniature  Classical  Library." 
13 


Applcton's  Catalogue  of  Valuable  Publications. 


LAFEVER— BEAUTIES  OF  MODERN  ARCHITECTURE; 

Consisting  of  forty-eight  Plates  of  Original  Designs,  with  Plans,  Elevations, 
and  Sections,  also  a  Dictionary  of  Technical  Terms  ;  the  whole  forming  a 
complete  Manual  for  the  Practical  Builder.  By  M.  Lafever,  Architect. 
One  volume,  large  8vo.,  half  hound,  $6  00. 

 STAIR-CASE  AND  HAND-RAIL 

Construction.  The  Modern  Practice  of  Stair-case  and  Hand-rail  Construction, 
practically  explained,  in  a  Series  of  Designs.  By  M.  Lafever,  Architect 
With  Plans  and  Elevations  for  Ornamental  Villas.  Fifteen  Plates.  One 
volume,  large  8vo.,  $3  00. 

Mr.  Lafever's  "  Beauties  of  Architecture,"  and  his  "  Practice  of  Stair-case  and  Hand-rail  con- 
struction,"  constitute  two  volumes  rich  in  instruction  in  those  departments  of  business.  They 
are  anecessary  acquisition  not  only  to  the  operative  workman,  but  to  all  landlords  and  proprietors 
of  houses,  who  would  combine  both  the  ornamental  and  useful  in  their  family  dwellings,  and  also 
understand  the  most  economical  and  profitable  modes  by  which  their  edifices  can  be  erected  and 
repaired. 

LEWIS. — RECORDS  OF  THE  HEART, 

By  Sarah  Anna  Lewis.    One  volume,  12mo.,  $1  00. 

We  have  read  some  of  the  pieces  with  mucli  pleasure.  They  indicate  poetic  genius  of  no  or- 
dinary kind,  and  are  imbued  with  much  feeling  and  pathos.  We  welcome  the  volume  as  a  credit- 
able accession  to  the  poetic  literature  of  the  country. — Boston  Traveller. 

LIEBSG—  FAMILIAR  LETTERS  ON  CHEMISTRY, 

And  its  relation  to  Commerce,  Physiology,  and  Agriculture.  By  Justus  Lie- 
big,  M.  D.  Edited  by  John  Gardner,  M.  D.  One  volume.  13  cents 
in  paper,  25  cents  bound. 

The  Letters  contained  in  this  little  volume  embrace  some  of  the  most  important  points  of  the 
Science  of  Chemistry,  in  their  application  to  Natural  Philosophy,  Physiology,  Agriculture,  and 
Commerce. 

LETTER-WRITER, 

The  Useful  Letter- Writer,  comprising  a  succinct  Treatise  on  the  Epistolary 
Art,  and  Forms  of  Letters  for  all  ordinary  Occasions  of  Life.  Compiled 
from  the  best  authorities.    Frontispiece.    32mo.,  gilt  leaves,  38  cents. 
Forming  one  of  the  series  of  '-Miniature  Classical  Library." 

LOOKING-GLASS  FOR  THE  MIND; 

Or,  Intellectual  Mirror.    Being  an  elegant  Collection  of  the  most  delightful 
little  Stories  and  interesting  Tales  ;  chiefly  translated  from  that  much  ad- 
mired work,  L'ami  des  Enfans.    Illustrated  with  numerous  wood-cuts. 
From  the  twentieth  London  edition.    One  volume,  18mo.,  50  cents. 
Forming  one  of  the  series  of"  Tales  for  the  People  and  their  Children." 

LOG  CABIN  : 

Or,  The  World  before  You.  By  the  author  of  "  Three  Experiments  of  Liv- 
ing," "  The  Huguenots  in  France  and  America,"  etc.    One  volume,  18mo., 

50  cents. 

Every  person  who  takes  up  this  volume  will  read  it  with  interest.  It  is  truly  what  the  writer  : 
intended  it  should  be — '  A  Gnide  to  Usefulness  and  Happiness." 

LOVER-HANDY  ANDY: 

A  Tale  of  Irish  Life,  by  Samuel  Lover.  Illustrated  with  twenty-three  char- 
acteristic steel  Engravings.  One  volume,  8vo.,  cloth  $1  25,  boards  $1  00. 
Cheap  edition,  two  Plates,  paper,  50  cents. 

This  boy  Handy  will  be  the  death  of  us.  What  is  the  police  force  about  to  allow  the  uttering 
of  a  publication  that  has  already  brought  us  to  the  brink  of  apoplexy  fifty  times  ? — Sport.  Review. 

 L.  S.  D.— TREASURE  TROVE  : 

A  Tale,  by  Samuel  Lover.    One  volume,  8vo.,  with  two  steel  Engravings. 
Paper  cover,  25  cents. 
This  is  a  capital  thing.    The  gay  and  the  grave,  the  "  lively  and  severe,"  are  united  with  a 
dkilful  hand,  and  there  is  a  latent  tone  of  sound  morality  running  through  "L.  S.  D."  which  will 
give  a  lasting  value  to  its  pages. — Commercial  Advertiser. 


Applet on's  Catalogue  of  Valuable  Publications. 


MAURICE.— THE  KINGDOM  OF  CHRIST; 

Or,  Hints  respecting  the  Principles,  Constitution,  and  Ordinances  of  the  Cath- 
olic Church.  By  Rev.  Frederick  Denison  Maurice,  M.  A.  London.  One 
volume,  8vo.,  600  pages,  $2  50. 

On  the  theory  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  all  should  consult  the  work  of  Mr.  Maurice,  the  most 
philosophical  writer  of  the  day. — Pruf.  GarbetVs  Bampton  Lectures,  1842 

MILTON.-THE  COMPLETE  POETICAL  WORKS 

Of  John  Milton,  with  Explanatory  Notes  and  a  Life  of  the  Author,  hy  the  Rev. 
Henry  Stebbing,  A.  M.  Illustrated  with  six  steel  Engravings.  One  vol- 
ume, 16mo.,  $1  25. 

Forming  one  of  the  series  of  "Cabinet  Edition  of  Standard  Poets."    ***  The  Latin  and  Italian 
Poems  are  included  in  this  edition. 
Mr.  Stebbing's  Notes  will  be  found  very  useful  in  elucidating  the  learned  allusions  with  which 
the  text  abounds,  and  they  are  also  valuable  for  the  correct  appreciation  with  which  the  writer  di- 
rects attention  to  the  beauties  of  the  author. 

 PARADISE  LOST, 

By  John  Milton.  With  Notes,  by  Rev.  H.  Stebbing.  One  volume,  18mo., 
cloth  38  cents,  gilt  leaves  50  cents. 


 PARADISE  REGAINED, 

By  John  Milton.    With  Notes,  by  Rev.  H.  Stebbing.    One  volume,  18mo., 

cloth  25  cents,  gilt  leaves  38  cents. 
MAXWELL— FORTUNES  OF  HECTOR  O'H ALLORAN 

And  his  man  Mark  Antony  O'Toole,  by  W.  H.  Maxwell.  One  volume,  8vo., 
two  plates,  paper,  50  cents,  twenty-four  plates,  boards,  $1  00,  cloth,  $1  25. 
It  is  one  of  the  best  of  all  the  Irish  stories,  full  of  spirit,  fun,  drollery,  and  wit. —  Com:  Enq 

MOORE.— L  ALL  AH  ROOKH  ; 

An  Oriental  Romance,  by  Thomas  Moore.    One  volume,  32mo.,  frontispiece, 
cloth  gilt,  38  cents. 

Forming  a  portion  of  the  series  of"  Miniature  Classical  Library." 
This  exquisite  Poem  has  long  been  the  admiration  of  readers  of  all  cl 


MORE— PRACTICAL  PIETY, 

By  Hannah  More.    One  volume,  32mo.,  frontispiece,  38  cents. 

Forming  one  of  the  series  of"  Miniature  Classical  Library." 
"Practical  Piety  "  has  always  bee    deemed  the  most  attractive  and  eloquent  of  all  Hannah 
More's  works. 


 PRIVATE  DEVOTION  ; 

A  Series  of  Prayers  and  Meditations,  with  an  Introductory  Essay  on  Prayer, 
chiefly  from  the  writings  of  Hannah  More.  From  the  twenty-fifth  London 
edition.    One  volume,  32mo.,  Frontispiece,  cloth  gilt,  31  cents. 

Forming  one  of  the  series  of"  Miniature  Classical  Library." 
Upwards  of  fifty  thousand  copies  of  this  admirable  manual  have  been  sold  in  the  U.  States. 

 DOMESTIC  TALES 

And  Allegories,  illustrating  Human  Life.  By  Hannah  More.  One  volume, 
18mo.,  38  cents. 

Contents. — I.  Shepherd  of  Salisbury  Plain.  II.  Mr.  Fantom  the  Philosopher.  III.  Two 
Shoemakers.    IV-.  Giles  the  Poacher.    V.  Servant  turned  Soldier.    VI.  General  Jail  Delivery. 

 RURAL  TALES, 

By  Hannah  More.    One  volume,  18rno.,  38  cents. 

Contents. — I.  Parley  the  Porter.  II.  All  for  the  Best.  III.  Two  Wealth-  Farmers.  IV 
Tom  White.    V.  Pilgrims.    VI.  Valley  of  Teais. 

Forming  a  portion  of  the  series  of"  Tales  for  the  People  and  their  Children." 

These  two  volumes  comprise  that  portion  of  Hannah  More's  Repository  Tales  which  are 
adapted  to  general  usefulness  in  this  country. 

17 


Appleton's  Catalogue  of  Valuable  Publications. 


NAPOLEON— PICTORIAL  HISTORY 

Of  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  translated  from  the  French  of  M.  Laurent  de  L'Ar 
deche,  with  Five  Hundred  spirited  Illustrations,  after  designs  by  Horace 
Vernet,  and  twenty  Original  Portraits  engraved  in  the  best  style.  Com- 
plete in  two  handsome  volumes,  8vo.,  about  500  pages  each,  $3  50  ;  cheap 
edition,  paper  cover,  four  parts,  $2  00. 

The  work  is  superior  to  the  long,  verbose  productions  of  Scott  and  Bourienne — not  in  style 
alone,  but  in  truth — being  written  to  please  neither  Charles  X.  nor  the  English  aristocracy,  but  for 
the  cause  of  freedom.    It  has  advantages  over  every  other  memoir  extant. — American  Traveller. 

NEWMAN— PAROCHIAL  SERMONS, 

By  John  Henry  Newman,  B.  D.  Six  volumes  of  the  English  edition  in  two 
volumes,  8vo.,  $5  00. 

 SERMONS  BEARING  ON  SUBJECTS 

Of  the  Day,  by  John  Henry  Newman,  B.  D.    One  volume,  12mo.,  $1  25. 

As  a  compendium  of  Christian  duty,  these  Sermons  will  be  read  by  people  of  all  denomina- 
tions ;  as  models  of  style,  they  will  be  valued  by  writers  in  every  department  of  literature. —  United 
States  Gazette. 

OGILBY.-ON  LAY-BAPTSSM: 

An  Outline  of  the  Argument  against  the  Validity  of  Lay-Baptism.    By  John 
D.  Ogilby,  D.  D.,  Professor  of  Eccles.  History.    One  vol.,  12mo.,  75  cents. 
From  a  cursory  inspection  of  it,  we  take  it  to  be  a  thorough,  fearless,  and  able  discussion  of  the 
6ubject  which  it  proposes — aiming  less  to  excite  inquiry,  than  to  satisfy  by  learned  and  ingenious 
argument  inquiries  already  excited. —  Churchman. 

 CATHOLIC  CHURCH  IN  ENGLAND 

And  America.  Three  Lectures — I.  The  Church  in  England  and  America 
Apostolic  and  Catholic.  II.  The  Causes  of  the  English  Reformation.  III. 
Its  Character  and  Results.  By  John  D.  Ogilby,  D.  D.  One  vol.,  16mo., 
75  cents. 

"  I  believe  in  one  Catholic  and  Apostolic  Church."    Nicene  Creed 
Prof.  Ogilby  has  furnished  the  Church,  in  this  little  volume,  with  a  most  valuable  aid.  We 
think  it  is  designed  to  become  a  text-book  on  the  subject  of  which  it  treats — True  Catholic. 

OLD  OAK  TREE  : 

Illustrated  with  numerous  wood-cuts.    One  volume,  18mo.,  38  cents. 

The  precepts  conveyed  are  altogether  unexceptionable,  and  the  volume  is  well  calculated  to 
prove  attractive  with  children. — Saturday  Chronicle. 

OLMSTED— INCIDENTS  OF  A  WHALING  VOYAGE: 

To  which  is  added,  Observations  on  the  Scenery,  Manners,  and  Customs,  and 
Missionary  Stations  of  the  Sandwich  and  Society  Islands,  accompanied  by 
numerous  Plates.    By  Francis  Ailyn  Olmsted.    One  vol.,  12mo.,  $1  50. 
The  work  embodies  a  mass  of  intelligence  interesting  to  the  ordinary  reader  as  well  as  to  tko 

philosophical  inquirer. —  Courier  4*  Enquirer. 

PAGET-TALES  OF  THE  VILLAGE, 

By  the  Rev.  Francis  E.  Paget,  M.  A.    Three  elegant  volumes,  ISmo.,  $1  7. 

The  first  series,  or  volume,  presents  a  popular  view  of  the  contrast  in  opinions  and  modi  s  of 
thought  between  Churchmen  and  Rom;niists  ;  the  second  sets  forth  Church  principles,  us  opposed 
to  what,  in  England,  is  termed  Dissent;  and  the  third  places  in  contrast  the  chaiacter  of  the 
Churchman  and  the  Infidel.  At  any  time  these  volumes  would  be  valuable,  especially  to  the 
young.  At  present,  when  men's  minds  are  much  turned  to  such  subjects;  they  cannot  fail  of  being 
eagerly  sought  for. — New-York  American. 

PALMER.— A  TREATISE  ON  THE  CHURCH 

Of  Christ.  Designed  chiefly  for  the  use  of  Students  in  Theology.  By  the 
Rev.  William  Palmer,  M.  A.,  of  Worcester  College,  Oxford.  Edited,  with 
Notes,  by  the  Right  Rev.  W.  R.  Whittingham,  D.  D.,  Bishop  of  the  Prot 
Epis.  Church  in  the  Diocese  of  Maryland.  Two  volumes,  8vo.,  $5  00. 
The  chief  design  of  this  work  is  to  supply  some  answer  to  the  assertion  so  frequently  made, 
that  individuals  are  not  bound  to  submit  to  any  ecclesiastical  authority  whatever  :  or  that,  if  they 
are,  they  must,  in  consistency,  accept  Romanism  with  all  its  claims  and  errors.- -Preface. 

18 


